Burn the HEART
by EverChanging101
Summary: Set after His Last Vow. Moriarty is back and intends to get his revenge and fulfill his promise to Sherlock. As Sherlock protects his friends and loved ones, his humane personality is revealed. Will it weaken him or make him wiser? #Sherlolly #Molliarty #Little bit of everything #Future Setting
1. Chapter 1

The echoes of the deceased world's only consulting criminal's voice televised on repeat across every TV in the nation sent shivers down Molly's spine.

_Is he really back or is this just a poor joke? _The question burned through Molly's mind as she locked every door and window in the morgue, A trip back to her house was not worth the trouble right now, she will go back home in the morning, when there are enough _witnesses_ in the street.

"I don't think those feeble locks will do anything against me, Molly Hooper" his calm voice touched by an Irish descent made the hairs in the back of her head stand up, she turned around and found Moriarty standing calmly and staring into her very soul. He was wearing a dark blue tuxedo that made him look dark and absolutely frightening to her. Molly's could hear her own heart racing.

"What are you doing here?" she said with her least frightened voice. Molly extended her hand into her pocket, Sherlock is on her speed dial, and she wanted him to hear this, to come to her aid.

Moriarty smiled at the hand she tucked in her pocket, knowing what she was doing "So predictable, Miss Hooper. I am disappointed" He wiped the smile from his face and looked like he was about to kill her with his vision "The woman who helped Sherlock Holmes fake his death, very disappointing. I thought he would teach you a thing or two"

He took a step closer to her trembling frame "I thought we had something special, Molly" He gave her that innocent smile that only "Jim from IT" gave her "then you went behind my back and BETRAYED ME" The last words were shouted, they rang through the whole place, and shook every nerve of her body. She was planted, couldn't scream or run, she fought back tears as she hoped Sherlock was hearing this conversation right now, that he would be on his way to the morgue. Her tiny spark of hope faded as she realized he may have ignored her call like he always does.

"I will not hurt you, Molly. No need to look so afraid." Moriarty smiled at her, though his eyes were still conveying eminent danger "Actually, no. Do continue, I am enjoying this." He smiled devilishly licking his lips as if savoring the moment "I only want you to convey a message, if you hadn't already" he glanced at her hand in the pocket and started walking towards her, his face was a few centimeters away from her face when he said sweetly "Tell my Sherlock that I miss him, and that there's 4 to go, tell him to remember what I said I would do to him in the pool that night." He smiled at the look of confusion and terror on her face.

"Can you do that? _For me?_" he sang the last sentence like he was a child asking her for a cookie. When she didn't answer his face shifted, his emotions going back and forth in such fluidity "CAN YOU?" He bellowed in her face, and she briefly nodded. "You are safe until you reach his house, now go" he said as he turned around, waving her off.

By the time Molly reached 221B Baker street she was out of breath, she ran all the way to the apartment and stormed in and up the stairs "Sherlock!" she yelled, he was lying on the couch with his eyes shut, he didn't even move a muscle when he heard her

"I know he's back, Molly"

Molly still couldn't control her breathing, angry and scared at the same time she tried to contain her emotions "listen to me, Sherlock" she said in between breaths in a very shaky voice.

He opened his eyes, but still didn't look at her

"He was at the morgue, and he told me to convey a message to you" Molly tried to control the shaking in her voice, but failed.

She now had his full attention as his eyes widened and he stood up to face her, she continued to tell him what Moriarty said, his face was locked in concentration until she finished.

"Burn the heart out of you" he whispered to himself.

"What did you say?" Molly wished she heard wrong. _Burn what?_

He ignored Molly's question and started pacing around the apartment "He will hurt each one of the people I care about to _burn my heart_ as he would say" Sherlock thought loudly. "Then who're the four people in danger?" he glanced back at her as if just noticing her existence "You, John, Mary and…" he stopped wondering who the fourth person is.

There are so many people he did care about "you've been reckless, Sherlock" Mycroft's taunting voice echoed inside his head.


	2. Chapter 2

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**This is the second chapter, the story isn't hot YET :D **

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* * *

Sherlock was pacing through his entire apartment. Molly had left to spend the night at Mrs. Hudson's place; she wasn't comfortable in Sherlock's apartment, not when he was going to be talking to himself aloud. Two questions kept running through his mind unanswered: How did he fake getting shot in the head? And who will be his first victim?

Molly told him about her safety ending just when she leaves 221B Baker Street, that's why she didn't want to go home. They both knew, though, that no matter what she does, Moriarty can't be stopped if he really set his mind on something.

John, Mary and their unborn child were in danger too. Sherlock was relieved that Mary the assassin can protect John, her motherly instincts would cause her to take extra care, and John's gun under the pillow was enough for now, at least. Sherlock had woken them up earlier and told them what happened, John knew this was coming and assured Sherlock that they would be fine and would come visit him in the morning.

Now who else was in danger? Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, _his parents even_? Sherlock became angrier at each person, but really he was only angry at himself. How had he, the person with no heart, become so caring? Now to this everyone he cared for was in danger, because of him. Every single one of them looked at Sherlock as if he's the guardian, a role Sherlock wanted to live a lifetime without fulfilling.

Sherlock's phone beeped as a message was received, he glanced at the clock which read 6:30AM. Morning already. Hours closer to whatever Moriarty was planning, Sherlock wasn't afraid, no, he trusted his mind. This thought soothed his heart which was clenched in worry for those he cared for. The very heart he wished he never had.

Sherlock read the message. The number was blocked, but he knew exactly who it was from "Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective who cared. I know how to make you cry, and I know how to make you laugh. They are Safe until I decide otherwise. –JM"

So there was no imminent danger, Sherlock sighed in relief. How was he, Sherlock Holmes worlds' only consulting detective so easily manipulated like this simply because people around him were easily manipulated.

Sherlock started calling his brother, he heard movement downstairs, Mrs. Hudson or Molly were up. Molly, he dragged her into this, she was safe if it wasn't for him. She chose to help him, though, he knew, she said it was her pleasure. For a brief second he imagined Moriarty shooting Molly and his heart raced. Stupid heart.

"Sherlock it is a bit early isn't it?" Mycroft's voice resonated through Sherlock's phone, he didn't sound like he was sleeping. _No time for games, Mycroft_. "He's back and he just contacted me." Sherlock said as if he is telling Mycroft about the weather "He said he will hurt four people I…_know_." He didn't want to admit to his brother of all people he _cared._

"Who are the four people?" Mycroft asked, Sherlock got his attention. "I don't know, yet. But you know whose security you need to increase, of course." Sherlock said, his brother, was one of the few people who knew what Sherlock meant, most of the time at least.

"Don't worry, dear brother, everything will be fine" Mycroft finally said in his affectionate big brother tone. NO, Sherlock didn't need this! He didn't want this! He considered yelling at Mycroft, but he needed him for now "I am NOT worried" he said aggressively.

"Of course you are. You would be only texting if you weren't." Mycroft said fast, he knew Sherlock would hang up on him, and he was right.

* * *

Molly Hooper was sitting on Mrs. Hudson's sofa, she held her knees to her chest and sat there quietly. Moriarty was back. She was possibly on the hit list. Flattered to be on the list of people who matter to Sherlock Holmes. Molly knew this would happen, being friend's with Sherlock Holmes (If you can call their relationship that) puts a few snipers on your back. Despite herself, Molly was excited.

Her life was boring. Everything bored her, the only time she felt a rush was when a body came through the morgue and she had to solve the mystery of how he died. When she was with Sherlock, the same rush went through her, but it was aimed at another part of her body. You are about to die, Molly, no time for that. She was about to die. She wasn't sad or scared. She was excited.

Not because she wanted to die, of course. but because this was her chance to fight off death. To have a story of her own.

Mrs. Hudson's voice entered Molly's thoughts, she was looking at Molly concerned. Mainly because Molly has been still like a statue since the night before. "Would you like some tea dear?" Molly nodded, and got up. She put her sweater clothes back on. She slept in her shirt and pants only. "I'll make it then we can drink upstairs with Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson nice voice said, Molly showed no reaction.

How was Sherlock coping with this? He is new to caring, and probably angry at himself or at the people who showed him how much he cared. If only he knew how much of an upside caring really is.

* * *

Moriarty was pleased with himself. He smiled devilishly as he looked at pictures sent to him by his spies. His smile widened at a picture that showed Sherlock looking worried as he paced in his petty apartment.

Yes, this was what he wanted. For Sherlock to feel vulnerable and weak. He is just another boring human with wits that he wasn't a match for. Boring Sherlock, very disappointing.

So he needs to know his place. He thought he outsmarted the great Moriarty that day on the roof. He thought he was so smart and tough. But _ooops_ someone came back unexpectedly, someone who liked to have fun with his food before eating it.

Moriarty was now thinking, who should he start with? Molly, the little bored girl who is probably very happy about this sudden attention?

John Watson, the pet with the assassin wife? No, he was the best part, the cherry on the cupcake as they say.

His wife, then. Mary the pregnant assassin? No she would be too easy.

First he needed to break Sherlock, so he wouldn't be able to fight and then pluck those weeds out one by one as he watched helplessly. Yes that was it. Moriarty smiled to himself, congratulating himself on his wit


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, sorry this took so long. Exams and medical school just drains people. hope you enjoy this one and bear with me as I try to discover my direction with this. it is mainly for fun, but your reviews are still important. even if you have nothing specific to say.**

**Hope you enjoy this one! **

* * *

Another explosion happened in central London today. Amateurs trying to thrive on the fact that Moriarty is back. It was a perfect time to behave like amateurs and have every crime pinned on someone else. Sherlock wouldn't let that happen, of course. He has been extra busy those days, the cases bored him, but he couldn't resist looking into them if it meant, in the slightest way, he'll know anything about Moriarty's whereabouts.

Even the homeless network had nothing.

The silence was more unsettling. It was the calm before the storm Sherlock and everyone around him knew was coming.

He remained calm, of course. Being his usual self and making sure his face is blank at all times. He knew he was being watched by Moriarty even in his own apartment, nowhere was safe enough to reveal any worries.

He added a new routine to his day, though. Every day at 12PM he would text Molly to make sure she was okay. John had Mary. Mary had John. They could defend themselves and their unborn child. Molly, on the other hand, was alone. She was a key in his plan. She was where Sherlock was sure Moriarty would throw his frustration at first, if not hardest.

It was 12PM now. He had sent her a text 30 seconds earlier simply asking how she was. There was a shooting today, so her average answering time would be extended.

Five long minutes later she replied "Fine :)" That was it. The whole history of texts between them had shifted from lab results to a repeated series of "How are you?" and "Fine". He still didn't want to lead her on. He wasn't sure whether she still liked him or not, but this was no time for her to be going back to that. No time for him to be distracted.

He needed something new to do, anything. A part of him wished Moriarty would just do something just to break the boredom, but a feeling of guilt soon followed after thinking his friends would get hurt in the process. Saved, eventually, but hurt in the process.

* * *

John and Mary Watson were cuddling on the sofa. Even though Mary was 5 months pregnant and it was showing, she could still move about normally because of her strong physique. However, she always chose to lie lazily against her husband, who always seemed to share her laziness.

"How do you think Sherlock is doing right now?" Mary said a hint of worry in her voice.

"I think he's fine. He's smart. He's good at not caring or at least pretending not to." John said smiling.

"That's what worries me. It's a whole new territory for him. Poor Molly, too. She didn't know any of this will happen." Mary said, she shifted her gaze towards John "she didn't know helping Sherlock would get her killed."

"She won't get killed, Mary. Don't say that." He kissed her on the forehead "she knew what she was getting into. She knew what kind of man Moriarty was…is! She dated him for God's sake."

Mary smiled "Yeah, imagine how that was"

John couldn't help but smile too "All I care about is bringing our little girl in a world where there are no men like James Moriarty around."

"Me too, John. Me too" Molly said assertively as she rested her head against John's shoulder.

This was home for them. Wherever the two of them were. And home is where you feel the safest.

* * *

James Moriarty was bored. He has been using these past few weeks reassembling his local network in Britain. And getting rid of the little pathetic excuses for men who tried to take his place. He was heard by the dummies. They knew they were back. The criminal ones did happen to mind his return. They were thriving if it wasn't for him. He still had allies, the most important ones.

In the end, all that mattered was himself, really.

Now it was time for the real action to begin.

It was time to destroy the symbol that is Sherlock Holmes, and to destroy the human heart he developed.

His first target was obvious, a bit _cliché_ even. But he knew this would unnerve Sherlock.

He has been texting her every day now, same time, same words. Sherlock Holmes was not a man of routine. He was making this too easy, really.

It was 1 PM. Sherlock texted her and she replied. This would give him time until next day same time to torture the little pathologist.

She would be useful to him alive, though, so killing her is going to have to wait.

She's probably been "picked up" already and delivered to the warehouse. Moriarty had a special storage space for his most precious key.

And only surviving ex-girlfriend. He smiled at this thought. Everybody already wondered why he left her alive when she broke up with him.

Foolish people. Really, it's like they're not trying to use their little empty heads.

Moriarty arrived at the warehouse at the exact time specified by his schedule. His men knew he liked the timing perfect, so they were like clockwork.

She was sitting on the floor tied up, still dressed in her lab coat. Drugged, little Molly Hooper. She was smarter than anyone thought. Even Sherlock had no idea how smart she was. Another mental note.

He dismissed his men and sat on the chair opposite to the still body. He waited patiently for her to wake up, and to shake of the effect of the sedative.

Molly opened her eyes and opened them a few times before comprehending what happened. Her eyes widened as she looked at James smiling at her like a baby.

"Hello, Molly." He used his "Jim from IT" voice "I missed you so much"

Molly still didn't speak, she tried to get up or move her hands, but she was tied up nicely.

"Why does everything I torture run away from me?" He said playing hurt by her fidget attempts "I thought there were some people in the world who are into that sort of thing" He smiled at her devilishly.

"YOU PIG!" Molly spat at him "You let me go right now! He knows I am here!"

"No he doesn't, come on, Molly." He got up and moved closer to her squatting to be at her eye level "Do not lie to me!" he yelled in her face making her stop moving from shock.

"James, please. You have the wrong person. He doesn't care" Molly tried pleading instead of yelling.

His eyes mirrored his disgust at her "I said DO. NOT. LIE. TO. ME" Moriarty's hand gripped Molly's face leaving red finger marks on her cheeks.

He got a clean handkerchief from his suit pocket and cleaned his hands from her tears. Then he proceeded to wipe away her tears.

"I will not kill you, yet, Mol. No need to be afraid." He said in a very sweet voice.

"Emotional playing that what he was doing" Molly thought to herself. She decided to give him nothing. Her expression turned to blank, as far as she could. She hid her fear and sat back with her back to the wall. "Okay then, James. I'll wait."

At this, James was impressed. Molly had changed. A change he liked. He smiled at her softly and then went out leaving her alone in the dark empty room.

She waited a few moments after he was gone, she began crying.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, hope you like this one. Thank you for the reviews and follows, your support is what keeps me going. **

**I noticed I have a few grammar and spelling mistakes, I am not the world's greatest proof reader and English is not my first language. Apologies, then! **

* * *

Molly had been sitting with her back to the cold wall for hours. She couldn't move her hands or legs at all, the ropes around her managed to keep her steady, and they left marks against her skin as a result of her frail attempts.

Her eyes got accustomed to the dark suffocating her, she sat in a concrete block with a dark seemingly iron door. A beam of moonlight crept inside from a rectangular window that was so high up she couldn't reach it even if she stood on a chair.

The door was opened with a loud crack from the metal locks. The light hurt her eyes as the lamp on the roof, which she just noticed, was lit.

"Hello, Molly" his voice sounded and all anger inside her flared. Her eyes got teary as the light hurt them. She didn't reply to him, and he didn't seem to wait for a reply.

He signaled one of his men to untie her and seat her on the only chair on the room. The large muscular bald man picked her up roughly and she let out a moan of pain as her muscles argued with the sudden movement.

"Gently" He spoke to the man in a superior tone, and he obeyed as Molly stood on her feet. When she was untied, the man guided her the chair and she sat quietly.

"Go, and take everybody with you. I don't need you until tomorrow" Moriarty ordered the man without lifting his gaze off Molly, she looked clearly uncomfortable by his gaze, and he was enjoying this.

Moriarty stood silently at Molly until the man left the room and the footsteps of the other guards followed him until they couldn't be heard anymore.

"I know you don't feel comfortable here. I'll try to make it more…pleasant" He spoke with a soft voice, almost compassionate and not the "Jim from IT" voice. Molly couldn't hide her surprise at his sudden change of attitude and looked at him to meet his gaze. His eyes mirrored compassion as he looked at her small frame. She, on the other hand, mirrored her increasing confusion.

"Molly I don't want to hurt you, really I don't" he said in the same tone "I am sad it has come to this between us, I mean you were very nice to me and I even liked you enough to not kill after you broke up with me. You don't understand how angry I was then, and the fact that I didn't do anything to you says enough"

Molly looked at him in clear confusion "What is this, then? You kidnapped me to tell me you care?!" she yelled despite herself, if he's being nice no need to wake the beast.

"I said I am sad it had to come to this." he said slightly annoyed "you're still a key to Sherlock, that's why you are here. I just didn't want you to not enjoy your…_stay_" he chose the last word carefully.

"Look, James. I don't care about this sick game of yours and Sherlock, and I would really appreciate being left out of it. Since you can't do that I would rather you don't talk to me at all, because every time I see you I fight an urge to kick your ass!" She said angrily, it was a relief to say this and it was true, all of it.

"That's just another lie, Molly" he said as he started pacing around the room "I mean you do want to kick me every time you see me, but you are enjoying this."

"What exactly am I supposed to enjoy about this?" Molly exclaimed

"The fact that this is something out of your routine. Molly Hooper, you are bored to death, and this is making you more alive than you've ever felt" he said smiling.

He was right, she knew that, Molly had a thing for psychopath and sociopaths, she worked with dead people and was enjoying her job only when there was a body with unknown cause of death. Moriarty will not win this, though.

"Just because you're a psychopath doesn't mean everyone in the world is like you!"

"Honey, nobody is like me" he said gesturing himself "but you are a part psychopath, Molly. Sherlock gets high off puzzles. You get high off dead bodies."

She decided it was pointless to argue with Moriarty. No one can change his mind, and she had no power to argue. He continued pacing across the room taking her silence as a victory.

"I brought you food" he said looking at his feet in a very low voice.

"What?"

"I brought your favorite meal, today." He said and continued before she spoke "I know what your favorite meal is, Molly. I have been watching you."

She couldn't comprehend what he meant, was he being nice? Because it sounded creepy. In a weird way, she was flattered.

"Thanks, I think." She said with no expressions.

His face lit up for a fracture of a second, but he wiped his face from all expressions before Molly could be sure.

"See you later, Mol" he said as he closed the door behind him. One lock instead of three.

* * *

It was 12 PM, when Sherlock sent Molly the usual text. He waited for a full half hour when he checked the news. No shootings or bombs today, and she still hadn't answered. Sherlock picked up his phone when it started ringing, it was an unknown number.

"Hello" he said cautiously.

"Sherlock, dear. I think Molly is a bit busy right now" Moriarty's deadly playful voice greeted Sherlock.

Sherlock's heart sunk for a second before he spoke again "What did you do to her?" Sherlock almost yelled.

"Don't be so grumpy, Sherlock. I would never hurt my Molly"

His Molly? What the hell was that?

"She is safe with me more than she'll ever be with you." Moriarty spoke again "I mean, how can I hurt my own sweet_ assistant_?"

"Assistant? What are you talking about?" Sherlock finally replied.

"How could you have missed the signs? Caring really is not an advantage to you, is it?" Moriarty's laugh resonated through the phone in Sherlock's hand. "She's been on my side the whole time. I'll let you think about it for a while, apparently you're getting slow."

Sherlock stood there hearing the beeps that indicated the other party ended the call.

Molly, the little pathologist who worked at St. Bart's Hospital. The one who saved Sherlock from his suicide. The one Sherlock trusted the most. Betraying him and her friends?

Sherlock sat on his chair and went to his mind palace immediately. Molly was there, not in her lab coat, but in a dark skirt suit.

"Did you betray me Molly?" Sherlock sat in front of the unusually dark Molly.

"Sherlock, honey. You should've seen the signs. He never killed me when we ended it. He never pointed a gun at me when you were going to throw yourself from the roof. He knew that day I would help you."

"How?" Sherlock asked looking at the transformed pathologist in disbelief.

"BECAUSE I TOLD HIM" Molly got up from the chair yelling at Sherlock. "I told him you came to me for help, we knew then I was in your circle of trust. Oh, the laughs we had." She stood there smiling to herself

"Why, Molly?" Sherlock asked, genuinely hurt.

"Why? Because you were never good to me Sherlock, he is nice and kind and he respects me. _He sees me_" Molly stressed the last sentence.

"I saw you, appreciated you and you had all my respect" Sherlock stood up now facing her.

"I know." Molly's sweet voice sounded from behind him, this Molly was dressed in a jumper and baggy pants. "Sherlock, don't believe her. I loved you, I knew you wouldn't love me back, but you were one of my friends."

"That's why I did this." The dark Molly spoke again "Love is what drove me to do this, I got frustrated with you. And hey, he's the slightly darker version of you. He's better than you in everything, virgin" Dark Molly looked at Sherlock in disgust.

"Don't believe her, Sherlock. Love is why you shouldn't believe her. Please trust me."

"Sherlock, honey." Dark Molly stood in front of him, hands on his face. She obscured his vision from Sweet Molly "I am smarter than you think. I can do this, I had every opportunity to screw you over. And I have. I am happy now with James."

Those words added to his hurt even more.

She was his accomplice. Maybe even lover. Sherlock felt at that moment a blend of feelings from loss, anger, hate, and the feeling he couldn't name when he saw here with Tom and "Jim from IT".

"Sherlock please trust in me" Sweet Molly's voice faded away as he ran from that room, that sickly room that had never existed before.

He went to a room made specifically for him, no one ever stepped foot in it except him. Molly had all the chances to be with Moriarty and act as a double agent. But why should he believe Moriarty and trust him more than Molly?

He had no idea what her family history is, except her father had died from a terminal disease. She was working with dead bodies. She liked Sherlock. _Not anymore_. She got engaged to Tom, broke it off. Two weeks later, Moriarty is back.

She broke it off with Moriarty first. She is his only living ex-girlfriend. _She can read Sherlock like an open book_.

Sherlock didn't want to believe, he didn't want to explore the possibilities, but he is not going to take any chances.

Molly is now unavailable.

Dark Molly's crazy laugh resonated through the corridors of his mind palace. Time to leave.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, lovely people ! **

**Thank you all for the follows/favs/reviews, I am so very happy. Hope you enjoy this one.**

* * *

Sherlock got out of the now depressing mind palace to find John and Mary sitting on the sofa talking to each other. They got used to his spacing out now, they just ignore it.

"He has Molly" Sherlock said simply.

John and Mary looked at him in shock "What? How? When? Is she okay?" John lent forward as Mary blurted out the questions

"She's fine." Sherlock still didn't look at them, he set his laptop on his leg to have an excuse to avoid their eager gazes.

"Sherlock, what happened?" John's concerned voice asked. John knew there was more, he too could read Sherlock as an open book, most of the time at least.

"It's silly really" Sherlock finally looked at them, they looked like they hadn't slept for days, not enough, and the increasing anxiety isn't going to do them good. "He is trying to convince me she's working with him"

"WHAT?" John and Mary exclaimed loudly.

Why wouldn't they? It was Molly Hooper they were talking about after all, the little shy pathologist. Sherlock almost felt guilty for creating that Dark Molly version in his head, but a voice reminded him that the _shyest person is usually the most dangerous_.

Absurd.

_Is it, really?_

Sherlock was still torn.

He texted Mycroft asking for information about Molly's history. Everything he knew is to be delivered as fast as he could. No such thing as being too safe.

John and Mary kept sharing stories about Molly, they weren't much, which alarmed Sherlock even more. Mary never met the woman, and John only saw her when Sherlock was insulting her.

She did have every possible way.

They were interrupted by a man in a dark suit who gave Sherlock a small box and left immediately. Sherlock hastily opened it and looked at Molly's pictures, it was a really thin file. She had no criminal records. Obviously. All her photos ranged from going home, to going to St. Bart's, to the occasional night out with friends at a pub.

He stumbled upon a picture of her and "Jim from IT" Smiling at each other warmly in a café. His anger rose and that unnamed feeling. What was that? Whatever it was, it multiplied when he saw a picture of her and Tom kissing.

He quickly shut the file. There was nothing incriminating, nothing attached her to Moriarty except their three dates. Molly's voice from the mind palace resonated in his head "Please trust me". Moriarty will have to do better than this to make him doubt Molly.

"Is that her file?" John had been standing behind Sherlock's shoulder looking at the photos.

"Yes, it is"

"Why are you holding that one?" John pointed at Sherlock's hand. He quickly set back the picture of her and Tom kissing back into the file, it was wrinkled from his firm grip. "Sherlock, you don't actually believe Moriarty, do you?"

"No, I don't" Sherlock said confidently "I knew Molly Hooper and she is not the kind of woman who would betray her friends."

John and Mary nodded approvingly.

* * *

Moriarty was laughing. His stomach hurt from all the laughter that echoed through the empty warehouse. There was no one there except him, and locked somewhere, Molly.

He was looking at photographs of Sherlock looking at Molly's file, he saw him clutching a photo angrily in his hands, and it brought great joy to him that the plan was working, Sherlock doesn't believe him yet, but still he showed a tiny bit of doubt. Mistake.

Molly's part of the plan will take time. He got up and went to the room where she's locked. She was the least irritating ordinary woman he ever met. Smart, smarter than she knew or let on. Her beauty was not striking according to the common concept, but it was satisfying for him. He has been with super models, and women whose names shouldn't be said out loud, but the one who left a mark was Molly Hooper.

She was sleeping on the mattress added to her room yesterday. Some decorations will be added there and he might even bring her cat later. He knocked on the door few times so she would wake up. He couldn't help but smile as she childishly blinked a few times and yawned. She looked innocent and small. A helpless child in need of constant protection

She got defensive when she saw him standing by the door. "Good morning, Molly" He said nicely not wiping the smile of his face.

"Good Morning" She said clearly annoyed.

"The bathroom is in the end of the corridor, all the necessities are there I assume."

"You're going to let me out?" She asked clearly confused.

"Not out like on the streets, just out of this room." He looked around the room "It's not really a place for you, and the rest of the warehouse is huge. I installed a few things for your comfort, of course."

"Yeah thanks" She snorted at the last few words while getting up "I'll go to the bathroom now"

"Yes, of course. When you're done breakfast will be ready." He smiled ignoring her rudeness.

Molly didn't even reply to him but simply walked out of the hideous room and slipped into the bathroom. Moriarty had bought clothes for her to stay in, a toothbrush and a hair brush. He sat at the dining table and waited for her.

The warehouse was a huge cuboid which was furnished to look a little bit like a house. Molly's room/prison was on the lower right corner, a corridor extended and branched from it were the bathroom and a small kitchen. Beyond the corridor he placed a dining table and a sofa in addition to a small TV with selected channels.

It wasn't much, but it was still fancier than Molly's apartment. A full half hour later, she walked towards him dressed in a blue long sleeve t shirt and some baggy pants, her kind of clothes, he thought. She sat opposite to him as far away as she could.

"I am glad you joined me" he smiled sincerely.

She didn't look at him as a waiter of some sorts placed food in front of her and Jim. She didn't even look at the food or at Jim, she was examining the place.

"Nice isn't it? It's also escape proof, if that thought crossed your mind." He picked up his utensils and started eating "Come on, Molly. I am sure you're hungry and the food is delicious"

A few moments later, Molly couldn't bear the hunger rising inside of her as the smell and sight of the food tickled her empty stomach, she started eating as fast as she could. James couldn't help but smile at this sight. Child-like.

He finished eating, and sat still until she finished too "Would you like to watch some telly?" His Irish accent was now showing as he was clearly comfortable. She seemed reluctant to answer, everything he says can turn out to be a trap in the end, and she can't trust him. He smiled "I don't bite, Molly" He got up and stood right next to her chair offering her his hand.

Everything he did confused her even more. Why was he being nice? Why wasn't he killing her? All she could be sure of is that she isn't going to trust him. There's no harm in playing along for now, he is being nice, feeding and clothing her. No need to rub him the wrong way.

Molly took his hand and he led her to the sofa a few steps away. She sat there looking at the empty TV and he sat there watching her.

"Don't you have a house somewhere that you go to?" _In hell maybe_, she chose not to voice the last sentence. She finally said a few moments later, clearly annoyed by his gaze.

"Why would I go there and be alone?" He stated simply.

A few moments later she tried again "Why are you being nice to me?" She finally voiced her confusion.

"Why wouldn't I be? You have nothing to do with the game between me and Sherlock, no point in harming you." He looked away from her now and gazed at the empty telly.

This wasn't like him. This man enjoyed killing people for no reason. "You are known to kill people for the pure joy if it all."

He couldn't help but smile at this statement. "True. I just don't feel like killing you, Molly." He looked at her again "I don't know why, and I won't until I figure it out."

Okay no need to rattle the cage, then. She decided to stay silent.

"Toby is being transported here right now." He finally said.

"Really?" She couldn't hide her joy at this. She has been wondering how Toby's been doing all alone with no food. "Thank you" She said under breath. He smiled her way genuinely.

She couldn't help but smile back, he was being nice, and she never returned kindness with cruelty. She always thought that was a weak point in her character.

He was like a schoolboy then, he stuttered when she smiled at him for the first time since she was there and got up hastily. "I have some evil stuff to take care of, I think." Her smile widened as his stammering increased "See you um…later, Molly." He walked away as quickly as he could, and she saw his wide grin as he walked out of the warehouse through a password locked security door.

* * *

**Action soon follows...  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, beautiful people! As always thank you for the great reviews, please continue with those!**

**Enjoy this one. I wrote a poem, embedded with puzzle (But you will get to this later) and the action soon follows. Tomorrow, I mean.  
**

**A special thanks to Google Earth for making it easy for me to write about places. You're awesome!**

* * *

Mary went to a grocery store next to her house to get supplies every Wednesday. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her and John very well, anything unusual or any concerns will be conveyed to the police and her husband in less than a minute.

_Lovely._

Moriarty always liked the touch of drama concerned people add, of course, he will not kill the woman. Not yet, anyway, but additional fretfulness never hurt anybody. Except Sherlock Holmes of course.

As soon as Mary got enough distance between herself and the house, Moriarty's men subtly guided her to a car, while she was dazed. Nothing to hurt the baby girl, of course.

Mary was delivered to a house, it was normal on the inside, nothing suspicious. She was left there for two days, food at hand. Guards outside, but not inside. No way out.

Two days ago

John went dashing through Sherlock's apartment in 221B Baker Street.

"Sherlock!" he called out when didn't find him in the living room.

Sherlock stepped out from the kitchen, wearing his goggles with a pinky in his hand. "What is it?" He read John's distress.

"Mary went to the grocery store 2 hours ago and still didn't come back!" Sherlock calmly removed his goggles and sat down on his chair. John waited for him to say something, but he didn't.

"Well, what are you going to do?" John said a bit too aggressively.

"I will wait for Moriarty to contact me, this is how the game works." Sherlock said simply

"She's my pregnant wife, he could hurt her! He could hurt our baby!" John kept yelling at the air. Sherlock didn't reply, he knew at times like this silence is best because he always says the wrong thing. Like he always did with Molly.

A few minutes later, a text was received, Sherlock read it aloud to the eager John "follow my poem and you'll never fail."

"Dammit!" John yelled, he turned around and kicked the coffee table "That bloody asshole's death will be on my hands!" Sherlock didn't speak, he knew John meant every word. "That fuckin' drama queen, my wife's life depends on a damn poem" John finally collapsed in his chair, his hair was a mess and he was shaking angrily.

"Don't worry, John. He won't hurt her, and he won't kill her. If that was the point he would've done it already." Sherlock realized how poorly chosen his words were when John glared at him "Sorry" He said faintly trying to undo what he said.

His phone indicated the arrival of a text "Mary and the lamb lay/ On the brink of the high ring. But in which way? / Lovely, Surreal The Woman rock/ Line from me, horrible, she's prey/ Thou shall save Mary and the lamb/ Yes, in only a night and a day." Sherlock stood there reading it again in silence, as John kept staring at him waiting for him to dash out the door and get Mary.

Ten minutes later they were still frozen like that, until Sherlock finally spoke "It's not much of a poem, is it?" he said this to himself, but John was running out of patience "Well, do you have any idea what it means?!" He yelled despite himself.

Sherlock ignored him, he was too busy in his own thoughts as he moved swiftly to write down the poem on a paper and looked at it. His eyes widened in shock. "What is it?!" John's anxiety tripled when he saw the look on Sherlock's face and stood next to him reading the paper.

"Calling my wife and child a sheep and lamb that bloody bastard" John kept repeating under his breath, Sherlock was still frozen, with the same look of surprise on his face "Well, Sherlock, mind to share what's bothering you? We only have until tomorrow sunset it seems."

Sherlock quickly held a pen and circled a few letters on the paper, and silently handed it to John. John looked at the paper and his heart sunk "Molly" he said under his breath.

"Yes, Molly. The text wasn't signed so I guess this is her subtle way. However, she's still not the greatest writer or villain." Sherlock said, he wiped his face from all expressions as he stared at the text.

"She still made it to your ranks, she made you look like _that_" John said clearly surprised by how badly Sherlock is taking this. Molly was never a matter of interest to Sherlock, at least not to his knowledge.

"I look fine" Sherlock snatched the paper from John's hand "Focus, John, this isn't time for this schoolboy talk"

_The brink of the high ring, what high ring? John's ring, had nothing special on any special features to it._

_The woman rock. Again, what woman? Dammit, Molly._

_Molly…_

_The image of Dark Molly was conjured back in Sherlock's head. Get out, I am trying to beat you._

_Focus, Sherlock._

_Line from me, she's prey. Moriarty can kill Mary with one line. Obvious._

_What is missing, then?_

_Surreal. The Woman. Why were those capitalized?_

"Ooh! John bring me a map" Sherlock stood up fast startling John in the process and causing his own head to spin. John hastily brought the map to Sherlock who opened it in a millisecond. "I know where she is"

"So soon?" John questioned, Moriarty didn't like easy work.

"It seems it's not Moriarty planning, is it?" Sherlock said as if he read John's mind. "Now look here, The Woman rock, it's capitalized. A clear reference to Irene Adler."

"The woman who made Molly jealous" John said, Sherlock couldn't tell whether it was a joke or if he said it out of disdain, he decided to ignore the remark and the implications.

"Right, so there's the ring. Greater London is encircled by it. And he on its "Brink" He pointed on the map.

"Addlestone, Surrey."  
"Exactly. Come on John, we have an hour and half of transport ahead" Sherlock confirmed John's sentence.

In under a minute they were all cloaked up and ready to go.

* * *

**IN THE MEANTIME**

Moriarty was extremely happy when he went to see Molly that day. Today is a big day, eventful for everyone.

He slipped into her room to wake her up, but he found her sitting on the mattress hugging her knees and staring into space. Toby greeted him with a purr, and that's when Molly noticed his presence. She quickly regained her composure, released her knees and started petting Toby.

Moriarty noticed she hadn't slept at all. "Good morning" He said trying to look at her with a bit of compassion. "Good morning, you're letting me out now?"

He smiled at her and walked out of the room leaving the door behind him, she soon followed and went to the bathroom, Toby following her closely behind.

They had their usual silent breakfast. Only when he was getting up to leave did she finally ask "How's Sherlock?" without meeting his gaze. Moriarty was demented, he was a dangerous psychopath, and she always took extra caution while talking to him. Something he particularly enjoyed, yet disappointed him.

He didn't look at her when she asked, but after a while she noticed the anger creeping up on him "You still check up on _him_, when he didn't even ask for you once?"

His words hurt, but she's not going to believe him. "I don't care if he asked or not, I already told you he doesn't care" She said firmly, this made him smile. He looked extra crazy with anger in his eyes and a smile on his lips "I am just asking how he is?"

"Don't worry your little pretty head about him, he's fine for now." He said a few moments later, which he spent staring into her, and she stared back. "Any other questions?" He asked her.

She nodded her head and he started walking towards the door, she caught the password he uses, and walked back to her room.

* * *

**It was initially a 5 and half page eventful story, but I cut it in half. What's a story without suspense, really?  
**

**Anyway, tomorrow you see/read the rest of the action!**

_**SPOILER: Someone gets shot *EVIL LAUGH***_

**Reviews, reviews and reviews. PLEASE!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, lovely people! **

**I particularly enjoyed writing this one. Thank for your reviews scarce as they are *Aggresively hints that you should review more* They steer the story, really people! REVIEW.**

**Anyways, I was thinking of doing a little collab in the upcoming chapters, so if anyone is intrested PM me here or on Tumblr (Same user name) **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

"Well, Moriarty sure likes Addlestone" John said to Sherlock on the train.

"Hmm?" Sherlock was lost in thought, he was sulking over the fact that Molly may have betrayed him. He kept reminding himself of the shy Molly Hooper, who couldn't even make eye contact with him 5 years ago. Moriarty can't harm his relationship with Molly. Not when Sherlock was ready to take it a step forward. Finally, Sherlock comprehended John's statement "Why do you say that?"

"Remember the kidnapped children?" John said, happy he remembered something that Sherlock didn't for a change.

"Oh yeah, that's a nice coincidence." That was the time Molly offered to help with Sherlock's suicide. The time he decided to let go and trust her. No such thing as coincidences, but Moriarty had no way of knowing about that, except if Molly told him, so he decided to stick with the coincidence explanation.

They arrived at Addlestone two hours later, stepped out of the station, where they suddenly froze.

"What's next, Sherlock? We're in Addlestone." John inquired, his patience was running low again.

"I have no idea, let's sit somewhere." He opened the paper and lost himself in it as John helped him cross the street and they went into a small café.

"We need to know the Street, and the house's or whatever it is number." He stared into a map on his phone, and went back to the poem back and forth as John watched almost in awe. He decided not to rush Sherlock, there was still time.

Sherlock's phone indicated the arrival of a message, he read it to John aloud who almost jumped from his seat. "I think you need a bit of incentive. 2 hours from now, the house will go BOOM"

"Two hours, Sherlock!" John was now unable to contain himself "MY wife will be blown up in two hours!"

Everyone in the restaurant looked at them, but for the first time, John didn't care what people thought of him.

"There's no clue about the street or number!" Sherlock sat there for ten minutes staring at his phone and map, John decided to go outside and let Sherlock think. He was probably killing some bugs idly.

Sherlock dashed through the doors of the restaurant "I got it, John!" he dramatically called a taxi and said to him "22 Shakespeare Road, please"

"How did you get that?" John asked obviously ecstatic.

"The poem itself was a clue, now it wasn't very good, but it used some of the early modern English, the one Shakespeare used. It so happens there's a road here called just that." Sherlock explained proudly, he showed John the map and the poem "Now for the house number, Moriarty gave me a clue it was, indeed, a house. You see those two letter separating her name in in the beginning of each line? The signature? MO _B_ LL _T_ Y. coding language really, B is number 2, T is number 20. There's no 220 on that road so I went with 22"

"Let's go get Mary, then!" John was still in awe, like he usually is when Sherlock deduces something.

Two minutes later, the cab dropped them off in front of the house, they started walking towards the door, when Sherlock got a text. "Hello, I've missed seeing you. I knew you'd be faster like this. Go on, save the woman before I change my mind. Never mind the snipers"

"Snipers?" John exclaimed. Then he looked at Sherlock, there was laser pointed where his heart was. "Oh my God."

"He said never mind them, come on John!"

They ran through the front door, John almost instantaneously called Mary's name a few times before she answered him. She looked well, no bruises, no sign of torture or even slight hunger. She assured John and Sherlock she was fine, that she had just been sitting there all alone.

"Not much of a kidnap, is it?" Mary jokingly said to John who thought it was too early to joke about it.

"Is anyone else here, Mary?" Sherlock asked as he started to wander through the empty house.

"I heard some noise upstairs, just before you came in." Mary said.

Sherlock moved towards the stairs when he heard someone speak. It was Molly's voice.

"Come on, Jump" followed by a window shattering.

"Molly?" Sherlock whispered to himself as he ran up the stairs and into the only room open. He saw an open window, its glass was shattered though, there was a rope attached to it, and signs of earlier presence.

He looked outside and he saw her, it was Molly. He recognized her hair and her frame. She was wearing a dark pants suit, but there was not much details he could catch because it was too dark.

She looked back at him, and before he saw her face clearly the street light went out. A car's engine roared through the darkness, then the lights came back. No sign of anyone.

Molly? That can't be.

Sherlock looked below the window, there was a heap of brown hair below. _No, that can't be_.

For a split second he forgot about everything and everyone as he ran down the stairs and out of the front door. He went towards the creature laying there.

It was a dog. An Irish Setter, with brown hair. Red Beard. The dog was dead. Sherlock quickly stepped away from it, and into the house.

_Molly and RedBeard._

Moriarty was on top of his game. Mary and John noticed Sherlock's expressions, they tried asking him, but he didn't reply. Mary suggested they hurry and go back to their houses.

Sherlock received a text "We're not playing anymore. This is you losing. This is your heart burning, soon followed by you dying. -JM" Sherlock decided to not read that text aloud. He spaced, not even realizing how he got to Baker Street.

All he could think of was Molly. He could hear his own heart cracking. Metaphorically, of course.

* * *

**IN THE MEANTIME**

Molly had a plan prepared. Tonight was the night. She wished Toby wasn't around for this one, it's going to be a burden to carry him through the escape.

She knew that by the time night comes, there will only be one guard. He liked to watch the telly. Something loud that made her sleep exceptionally hard to come by. Tonight she will get her revenge for that.

She snuck out of her room, he heard he door squeak. She calculated that. His steps came closer to her and he yelled at her in an odd accent "What are you doing out of your room?"

"I just needed to use the bathroom" She said looking at him apologetically.

He nodded "Hurry, then!" and he stood as she entered the bathroom

"Are you really going to stand there?" Molly asked irritably.

"Yes, it's my job" He flashed her a little annoyed look.

"Can you at least turn around, I can't do it while someone is waiting" She pleaded.

He sighed and turned around. In under a second, to her surprise, she jumped on his back, took his gun and pointed it at the back of his head. She slowly set her feet back on the ground.

"Kneel, um... please" She wasn't used to giving orders, but she had a gun, nonetheless.

He did as she asked, then he looked at her smugly "Is the little princess going to shoot me?"

"Don't provoke, I am not a princess, I am a doctor." She said to him fiercely. _I am on fire_. "I can make you bleed to death right here and right now in under a minute, so do as I say." She was proud of herself saying that without stuttering.

He wiped the smile of his face and followed her with his eyes. She needed to shoot him, nothing too serious, just to make sure he won't follow until she goes out the door. She decided to shoot him in his calf, something to leave a mark.

The shot was fired, she swiftly ran away from the now screaming and cursing man. Toby followed her as she typed in the password she memorized. The fresh air sent her hair flying all around.

She moved subtly in the night. _This was too easy_, did Moriarty think she was so bored she won't even try to escape his prison? That thought made her angry. He thought he knew her. _Nobody knew the real her._

Suddenly she heard a gun loading behind her and noticed fifty or so lasers were pointed all over her body. She sighed and turned around to find Moriarty, not holding the gun of course, next to a henchman. She pointed her gun at Moriarty.

"I liked that thing you said" he smiled at her clearly amused "I am not a princess, I am a doctor" He laughed a bit "I like who you've become, Molly. Apparently captivity works in your favor." He took a step towards her.

"If you take another step, I swear I'll shoot you, this time I won't feel guilty about leaving you with a mortal wound" She said trying to sound aggressive unsuccessfully, This was not her area of expertise.

"Oh, you're going to shoot me?" he said sounding hurt, mocking her "Try doing that with an empty gun" He was now at the other end of her stretched hand, the gun was pressed against his chest.

She didn't reply. _Of course_. That's why it was too easy. He predicted this.

"I wish you would've just told me you wanted to go out, I mean I would've gladly let you, I might even go out with you. Give our fourth date a try." He winked as she looked at him in disgust.

"I am sad it had to come to this, Molly. You are my favorite. But right now you need to be taught a lesson" He ended the sentence with a threatening tone.

"I have nothing to lose, James. There's no way you can hurt me." She said dropping the gun from her hand.

"I beg to differ, Molly. I can take away your dignity. Your pride. I can take away your physical and mental health. It's not just about killing people around you. That's for Sherlock." Moriarty said these words in the craziest tone she ever heard. He was tracing his hand on her face.

All of Molly's anger fired inside of her, suddenly every memory related to Sherlock that made her cry, every remark he made, everything unfair that has ever happened to her,a ll her frustrations, along with her anger at Moriarty. She conjured it all up. She needed that anger to face him, to numb her fear. She reached her hand up and slapped his face.

At the moment her hand touched his cold skin. A shot was fired.

* * *

**Molly is one BAMF, love her! :D **

**Is she going to die? *raises eyebrows* Am I G.R.R Martin? :D**

**So many questions, so little answers. Don't forget about the collab thingy. Never hurts to have a second opinion. If you're interested, just contact me :D **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, awesome people! **

**Thanks for all the reviews and support! **

**Hope you enjoy this one! *EVIL SMILE***

* * *

By the time John, Mary and Sherlock reached 221B Baker Street it was well past midnight. Sherlock offered they stay there until morning and John agreed Mary couldn't withstand any further trips for the night.

Mary was strong, she wasn't shaken in any way, but it was like John was the one being tortured not her. Sherlock figured out what the point of kidnapping her was. Shaking John.

"Sherlock, You probably want to know what happened" Mary said as she and John were sipping on their warm tea. Sherlock was in his chair replaying the events of earlier in his head. Redbeard and Molly Hooper. He pushed the memories and looked towards Mary who continued speaking.

"When I was there, I was locked inside the living room most of the time, they let me out sometimes, but when I was locked I could hear them speaking" Mary's voice was shaky. .

"I could hear um…People talking, and among the manly voices, a woman was speaking. I never made out what they were talking about." Mary now stared apologetically at Sherlock, whose eyes widened. "Who was it, Mary?" He asked hoping to not hear the answer, secretly begging Mary not to say the name.

"I don't know really, I could just hear a woman. The men never called her first name, she seemed to boss them. I am really sorry it's not much" Sherlock remembered, Mary never met Molly, she had no idea how she sounded. He sighed in relief. That means the woman might not be Molly, after all. He assured Mary it was fine, along with a mental note that when he thinks Mary looks worried it's most probably guilt. He couldn't read her right, yet.

He heard Mycroft's voice in his head. "Do not tailor deduction, dear brother. The probabilities and your eyes can't deceive" Sherlock shook Mycroft's voice, he didn't need this now. He would trust Molly with his life,_ he did trust her with his life_.

By the time Morning came, John and Mary left early to their place. Apparently, Mary wasn't comfortable in John's old bed which smelled funny because Sherlock conducted an experiment on it a week ago. An hour later, Lestrade showed up at Sherlock's flat.

"Is Mary okay?" He asked Sherlock, a bit out of breath.

"Yes, she is" Sherlock said simply signaling him to sit down. Lestrade ignored the offer.

"Why don't you ever call me?!" His face acquired a funny shade of red "You could've been hurt, I can help, you know!"

"I know, but with Moriarty dragging the police into everything isn't the best solution. When I am stumped with something, I call, and when John is with me he calls behind my back."

Lestrade calmed down "And Molly?"

"Shouldn't you be the one telling me something?" Sherlock inquired, what good is having Scotland Yard if he doesn't know anything.

"I um…we have nothing. Her apartment is clear, she wasn't taken from it, and we have no leads to go on"

"I know" Sherlock said, he didn't have any leads either.

"When you know anything about her, _please tell me_" Lestrade was almost begging now.

"Yeah, sure" Lestrade looked down in frustration knowing, he excused himself because he has work to do. Sherlock almost let out a laugh at that statement and Lestrade ignored him.

* * *

When Sherlock was shot he had a mind palace to aid him. Ordinary people have nothing to aid them in those few minutes before dying.

Molly Hooper, on the other hand, had Moriarty's medical team on standby, they made sure she didn't die even if she had her heart and mind set on it. They were very experienced, and she was pretty sure very expensive.

The bullet deliberately avoided bones and any major arteries. She was only left with a scar on her thigh and an exit wound to match it. All the pain she felt was only relieved when she replayed slapping Moriarty in the face even if she didn't fully experience it, the notion didn't go unnoticed. He never visited her again.

A week after getting shot, though, he did. He looked at her with the craziest look she's ever seen, and that says much since it's Moriarty, after all.

"Hello, Molly. Did you miss me?" He smiled at her with a smile that matched his irrational eyes.

"I managed to deal with your absence." She was sitting in her room, doing absolutely nothing. Bored.

"Really glad you recovered. Can you walk now?"

"Yes, I can. Your sniper made sure of it." She unknowingly moved her foot around.

"Well, you deserved the pain." He said matter-of-factly sitting in front of her now. She shot him a disgusted look. "I'll take you out tonight" He was now checking his watch.

A chance to run off, or maybe Sherlock would see her and finally know her whereabouts. She didn't reply as he didn't really seem to ask if she wanted to go.

"Great, our fourth date, then!" He stood up suddenly, phone in hand and walked out leaving her unable to give him a look of pure anger.

A white dress was delivered to her room an hour later, the man she shot previously scowled at her that there's only 3 hours to get ready. She put on the dress, it was short flowy dress, exactly her type, if it wasn't for the length. The bullet wound would show if air blew the light fabric.

She got into a car waiting for her, Moriarty was inside, busy with his phone, he smiled at the dress as she got in the car.

"Oh, I got the size right" he kept looking at her for a few moments, she looked out the window, slightly blushing under his intrusive gaze. They got to a small restaurant with an outside dining area, just in the middle of London, he signaled her to take a seat outside. Did he want to be seen? The man's face is everywhere and every police officer was looking for him.

"I have snipers here too, you know. Stop thinking about escaping, you'll leave only when I want you to." He wasn't threatening, his voice had a possessive tone, however, one the made her uneasy mostly because, for the time being, he did own her life. Was this why Sherlock killed himself? Molly had always wondered about Sherlock's reasoning at that time.

Molly watched as Moriarty texted someone and then tucked the phone in his pocket again, looking around. "Nice place, isn't it?" He smiled at Molly, his delusional look was still glued to his face.

"Yes it is" She didn't smile.

"You'll find the food her to your liking" he was staring at her. It's like he knew Molly's least favorite thing in the world is to be watched, or have someone put her under the limelight.

"What choice do I have?" She smiled at him in distaste.

"You finally got it, then!" He clapped his hands together "You have no control, I own you"

"No, you don't!" She retaliated instantaneously, she had no argument to press, so the sentence ended lamely.

He pulled his chair to sit exactly next to her, and gave her a triumphant smile.

That's when she felt his lips on hers and his hand holding the back of her head so she wouldn't pull away. She didn't kiss back, just sat there and took it until he was done.

"See? I own you"

When she was dating Jim for IT, she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, kissing him all day long. Right now, she felt like crying, but crying means defeat, it means she surrenders to Moriarty's rule over her._ Isn't that what happened, though?_ It might be, but she won't admit it. He won't have that satisfaction.

She found herself thinking of Sherlock, and how he never found her yet. What was taking him so long? Did he not care? Did he lie about her being the one who mattered the most? he probably just said it so he would use her again. Like he always did. This is a new low, even for Sherlock. If he won't care for her, he would at least care about his revenge on Moriarty. She decided that maybe Sherlock actually had no idea how to reach her.

Moriarty ordered for her, she sat there in silence as he dictated the orders to the waiter, and they remained silent as they ate. His gaze never wavering off her. Then, he lead Molly to the car, which took them back to the warehouse.

"I wonder what ordinary people do on their fourth date? Well, that doesn't matter, you're not with an ordinary man" He smiled as if he said the funniest thing on Earth, and kept his exposing gaze fixed upon her. Molly never tried slapping him again, last time she did it she got shot, but she was having a hard time fighting the urge.

Next thing she knew she was violently tied up and stripped down. Moriarty took away her pride, dignity, physical and mental health that week. _Just like he said he would._

* * *

Sherlock's phone vibrated as he received a message, it was someone from his homeless network.

Several pictures of Moriarty and Molly were received. First, they were at a restaurant in Central London sitting together.

Then kissing, The unnamed feeling stirred up as he stared at that one, a sense of protection was also stimulated inside of him, why? He concentrated. The kiss was forced, his knuckles were stressed as he pushed her head towards his, her body was tensed.

Then he noticed something else, Molly's thigh had a gunshot wound, a pretty recent one, not a week old. He felt a sudden urge to see Moriarty's dead body.

He shot her. He hurt her. He might have even done _more_. Sherlock promised himself he would protect her and failed. A mental picture of Molly crying in a corner begging Sherlock to rescue her haunted his dreams and mind palace, that picture became more vivid at that moment.

Another text followed those two pictures. "I followed them, and I think I know where he took her"

Sherlock threw his coat and scarf on and rushed through the door, dialing John's number.

* * *

**I know, I feel guilty. but Sherlock needs proper stimulation *Pauses for a TWSS joke***

**Ahem...Anyways, I hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, lovelies! **

**ENJOY this one :D and tell me what you think as soon as you finish !**

* * *

Inside the dark warehouse, in a room specifically assigned to Molly, her trembling naked form lay on the cold concrete floor. She was bruised and half conscious. James Moriarty stood over her, fully clothed after he broke the little pathologist.

"You know what my favorite thing in the world is, Molls?" He paced around, not expecting her to reply, his crazy eyes shined through the darkness of the room "Hope. That's what made you so easy to break. You kept expecting to escape, to be saved, to be cared for by Sherlock. That's why you are so fragile, Molly Hooper. That's what made torturing you so_ fun_" He licked his lips as he examined the still body in front of him.

Her screams had been music to his ears in the first hour, she realized there was no hope later on, accepting her humiliation. He knew his mission was accomplished when her eyes became empty, when her soul was drained out, no longer making her caramel eyes shine. He smiled as he reached into his pocket for a piece of gum. Chewing through his widening smile.

He checked his watch briefly. They will be hear any moment. Moriarty ordered his men to leave the warehouse. He locked the room Molly lay in and took the key. One last chance to provide false hope and eagerness.

In a matter of seconds the warehouse was left vacant.

* * *

Sherlock and John took a cab ride to the address sent by the homeless network spy. Sherlock was nervously tapping his foot and ignoring John begging him to stop.

Sherlock didn't know if he was nervous because Moriarty might be there and he might confront him for the second time, or because he might find Molly sobbing and tortured.

His heart clenched when he thought about Molly, he felt true fear for her, like the one he felt when He saw the hound in Baskerville, except that one was chemically induced and he feared for himself. This was a selfless kind of fear that he never experienced before, Sherlock tried to subdue it, but failed miserably, so he resorted to ignoring it.

He was sure now that Molly never betrayed him, he regretted ever doubting her for a second. Molly was nothing but a victim of her own kindness and love. Her unrequited love to Sherlock Holmes. Guilt was now taking a triumphant seat next to fear and worry. He constantly cursed his heart until the car stopped and they ran out of the cab.

Sherlock ran to the specific warehouse next to Thames, He and John kept expecting snipers, but the place was deserted.

"Are you sure this is it?" John asked checking the rooftop.

"Yes, this is the address" Sherlock said irritably.

They walked carefully through the doors when they heard sirens. The police was here.

"I called Greg, we might need him" John replied to Sherlock's accusing look.

Greg asked them to wait until his men searched the place for bombs or anything dangerous, Sherlock ignored him. If Moriarty was to blow them up, they wouldn't be discussing it until this moment.

Sherlock walked to the rooms in the back. The whole place was made to look like an apartment, a luxurious one at that. Maybe Molly was imprisoned here, maybe she is here. Sherlock could hear his heart racing, he opened a room in a dark corridor. A bathroom.

There was a metal door at the end with three locks. One of them needed a key. He didn't call anyone to aid him, this room was obviously meant for him. He picked the lock swiftly in a few seconds, and strolled in.

Sherlock stopped in his track. The sight of his petite, shy and loving pathologist lying on the floor in her broken, naked and unconscious form shook him. The thought that she might be dead sent stabbing pain through him.

No, she wasn't. Her breaths were shallow.

His face became gradually red as he saw her naked, but it wasn't just that contributing to the increasing crimson, he also observed bite marks on her neck and breasts, bruises scattered throughout her body and trauma previous robes left on her wrists and ankles.

She was raped, and beaten almost to death. His anger rose, he imagined leaving the same marks on Moriarty's body as he screamed in pain, he has to feel the pain he caused Molly.

Sherlock took his coat off and covered her body with it. She lost a significant amount of weight, obviously, and under all the bruises on her face he could see a history of lack of sleep and crying.

This was all Sherlock's fault. He felt like he needed to comfort Molly, to hug her and say he was sorry. If it was anybody else, he would ignore those urges and brush them off, but this was Molly. He owed her this, he _wanted_ to offer her his comforting presence and protect her.

Sherlock sat on the floor and picked up the small and defenseless body off the floor and held her close his chest. All the emotions he was repressing before were flooding his body. He gently rocked her back and forth like a baby whispering in her ears how sorry he was, trying to comfort her by saying he's there for her now. He could feel a tear roll down his cheek. Sherlock Holmes was truly grieving his incompetence towards Molly Hooper, who has shown him nothing but support and love. Saying sorry wasn't enough.

He could hear her whisper his name weakly. _She needs help, Sherlock, get a grip. Don't disappoint her again._

He picked her up of the floor easily and called out to Lestrade and John who guided him to an ambulance. John rode with him to the hospital.

He didn't look for any clues around the warehouse, he won't find any, and he didn't care enough. Now, there's a more pressing issue, Molly has to recover completely. He was sure about her physical recovery, it's her psychological one that concerned him. How badly did Moriarty break Molly?

John kept staring at Sherlock throughout the entire trip to the hospital. He has never seen him this worried about anything, not even a case. Maybe Sherlock was becoming more human, maybe Molly stimulated that in him. He didn't ask as to not ruin the moment, sure that Sherlock would retaliate defensively saying that he needed her for his work and that's it.

He could see that Sherlock cared for Molly, just like he cared for John and _maybe even more_. This time John was the one smiling in an inappropriate setting.

When they arrived at the hospital, Sherlock and John left the doctors to help Molly and sat in the waiting room. Sherlock kept examining her body over and over in his, every bruise on her body felt like a knife go through his skin. John sat next to him, still amazed at how much Sherlock is affected by this.

"She will be okay, you know" John tried to sooth him a bit.

"I know" Sherlock didn't even look at John's direction, he listened to John's strokes on his phone, probably updating Mary. Sherlock suddenly turned around to face John "He…um he hurt her, John. Beyond physical damage"

"What do you mean?" John was startled.

"She was um…" This wasn't easy to say, he didn't want to admit it "she was raped, I don't know if it was him or not, but she was."

John gaped at the statement "Are you sure?"

Sherlock nodded, and glanced John's grave expression before turning away.

He wanted to voice his concerns that when Molly is well she will start to blame Sherlock, she will see his incompetence, and she will stop adoring him like before. He wanted to ask John about all those things because he was never been good at anticipating people's reactions.

He decided not to, though. The only person who has seen him vulnerable was in a hospital bed because of it. He sufficed with sitting there until she was taken care of by the doctors, secretly hoping she won't start hating him. His relief to get Molly back failing to outweigh his grief for her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello lovely people! Sorry it's been so long I have been so busy with family gatherings and stuff. **

**Anyways, hope you like this one.  
**

* * *

"She will have to stay here for a couple more days. Neck and head trauma caused to her are severe, few broken ribs and a broken wrist along with few bruises all over her body. The gunshot wound on her right thigh is not new, it's already been treated well, so nothing to worry about there." The doctor who received Molly's case was now updating John and Sherlock on her status. "I think she should see the hospital therapist if she doesn't have one, because any psychological trauma can affect her healing and behavior and is unpredictable"

"I don't think she'll approve of it, but it's for the best." John was politely nodding at everything the doctor said, but Sherlock tuned the doctor's voice out after he enumerated the different places Moriarty broke, shot and hit Molly.

Lestrade walked to them in the waiting room as soon as the doctor was finished "Well, we searched the warehouse, there's absolutely nothing that can help us there" Sherlock already knew that. "It was registered under an old lady's name who died of natural causes a few weeks ago, this is why we couldn't track it down"

"He didn't want to be found" Sherlock said calmly "If we can't question her because she's on drugs, I will go home now!" he said clapping his hands together.

John stared at him sharply while Lestrade muttered "bastard" under his breath "What? There's nothing we can do here anyway, he is not going to target her anymore, and I called Mycroft ,he will send some people over."

"Well, protection -even if lacking, is not why we're here!" John tried to contain his anger so not to yell and make a scene. "We're her for moral support because she has been hurt"

"That's never been my area" Sherlock was cold, his eyes uncaring he waved them off and turned to walk when Lestrade stopped him "How can someone be such a dickhead?!" His face was red in contrast to Sherlock's pale, uncaring one.

Sherlock was halfway through a shrug when his face was met with Lestrade's fist, Sherlock recovered and stared into Lestrade's angry eyes "If you want to be a jackass then, by all means, go ahead!" Greg moved out of Sherlock's way allowing him to leave, and he did leave.

John was confused, what happened to the Sherlock who was worried sick a few moments back? Well, he did look out of character then, to be honest. Sherlock only cares when he needs something, he realized information will not be given to him so he left. John remembered the day Sherlock "committed suicide", He's always been a good liar.

Mycroft's men looked harsh and unwavering as they were roaming the hospital's corridors now checking every face thoroughly, John and Lestrade agreed to comeback in the early morning as the doctors assured them that Molly will stay drugged for at least 8 hours. They didn't speak about Sherlock the entire time they stayed, and did not speak about him when he didn't show up the next day either.

Mary, John and Lestrade were sipping coffee when the doctor told them they can see her but take care not to drain her. John went in first, he felt a pang of pain go through him as he remembered how Molly looked at Sherlock and how she did everything for him "sure he has a reason" he kept saying to himself, "I hope he does".

"Good morning, Molly" John said smiling at her softly.

"Morning, John" Her voice was a little ragged, probably because of all the bruises on her neck. She was strangled, his sympathy towards her increased. He felt awkward, though, he never saw Molly that much and never talked to her directly except once or twice. The only person who talked to her, though, is not here, so someone has to be.

John decided to stand by her side, she shrunk a bit when he zoomed in making him stop. "Um…Molly, I want to apologize to you for everything you had to go through, I am sorry."

"It's not your fault, but thanks" She smiled at him weakly "Please don't take this the hard way, but is Sherlock here?"

"Um…no, he's not" John answered as he looked at his feet, but he could feel her disappointment fill the room. Apparently, helping him with pretty much everything still doesn't guarantee you a hospital visit from Sherlock Holmes. She never voiced her disappointment, but still managed to look sweet and smile at John.

"Please tell Greg to not tell any of my coworkers about this. Last thing I need is a bunch of people I don't know feeling sorry for me" Molly was firm, to John's surprise "Yeah, I'll let him know, he's outside if you want to see him" She shook her head "Sorry, I just don't want any more visitors"

She was apologizing, she was asking nicely and she was smiling. John couldn't help but admire Molly Hooper at that moment. "Sherlock doesn't deserve you, Molly" he wanted to make her see, to show her how she was a shy little girl around him instead of showing how strong she really is.

"Do you have any family members you would like us to contact, though?"

"No, I don't. It's just me" She smiled weakly, and he couldn't help but smile back. "Okay, I'll let you rest, then." She nodded his way and he left the room wishing he told her how amazing and strong she was, she needed to hear this. Little did he know that as soon as he closed the door, Molly Hooper was crying her eyes out like she did every day for the three weeks since she's been kidnapped.

John called Sherlock right away.

"What the hell are you doing?!" John shouted through the phone.

"I was just experimenting!" Sherlock sounded surprised, the anger boiled inside of John.

"I mean to Molly, the poor girl! You are the only one she knew, we are all strangers comforting her, and she's actually alone right now." John regretted making her sound so weak.

**_I know_**.

"I will do nothing but hurt her even more, John. I don't comfort people." Sherlock sighed.

"Look, I don't care what the hell you think you're doing, but just for once stop thinking about yourself and start thinking about other people!" John shouted as he hung up.

Sherlock wasn't conducting an experiment, he knew Molly needed him and he has been sulking in his own sorrow for fifteen hours now. He did count. He hasn't even bothered to put ice on his face where he was punched, he didn't retaliate because he deserved it, and keeping it untreated was further self-punishment, an unconscious one.

He realized he was some sort of anchor to her, but if she saw him helpless and weak like he was then she wouldn't be comforted. If he said the wrong thing, which he always did, she can hate him forever or even hurt herself or other people. It is easier this way, and safer for both parties.

John's words did affect him, he knew that she had no family when he read her file, and she had no current boyfriend when she disappeared, throughout the entire time she was gone the only people who contacted her wanted to check why the corpses were piling up in the morgue.

He remembered the dreaded Christmas he hurt her when she was working in an empty hospital on New Year's Eve, with only the dead as company.

Moriarty is probably waiting for him to show he cared to hurt her even more, he was lurking around in the dark watching every move. In his own mind, Sherlock was protecting Molly.

* * *

Two days came and passed in uneventful silence, Molly didn't allow anyone to go into her room except John to make sure she's fine and the hospital therapist who admitted Molly wasn't opening up. Sherlock spent his entire days in his apartment, John didn't call, Moriarty didn't text, and he made a small habit of going on a walk in the evenings away from St Bart's as he could so he would stop staring at his phone.

Today, though, was the day Molly will be discharged from the hospital. Lestrade called Sherlock for the first time since he punched him.

"I know you don't care, but I am going to Molly's now to see if**_ he_** left her any souvenirs there, want to come?" Lestrade was annoyed.

"Yes, I do. I'll meet you there in half an hour" Sherlock noticed this was the first human contact he had since no one spoke to him anymore, even Mrs. Hudson who gave him tea despite herself in the morning without uttering a single word.

Fifteen minutes later he was staring into Lestrade's face,

"I am sorry, and I do care. She will hate me, you know" Sherlock spoke the words as soon as he saw Lestrade.

"Are you mental?" Lestrade was almost grinning, this contrast in tone and facial expression confused Sherlock "She won't hate, Molly doesn't seem like a person who would do that. She will hate you if you ignore her the way you. Stop pushing people away"

Sherlock remembered the night he told John that "Alone protects him", he was alone then, it was all he knew, he wasn't used to having so may people in his life, in constant demand for attention and emotions and, right now, care. Especially if any attempt to getting closer would mean a step up in Moriarty's hit list.

They walked silently towards the apartment and opened the door to Molly's apartment, neither taking a step forward.

A white dress, which Sherlock recognized from her Molly's photos with Moriarty, was hung in the middle of the living room to the ceiling, it was stained with blood and mud, Sherlock took a look around the dress, his stare widening at the back of it.

"2 down 2 to go"

_Two? Molly was the only one he truly hurt, who was the second? Mary? John? No, that was just warming up. _

Comprehension arose on Sherlock's face, he turned to Lestrade but it was too late.

Glass was shattered behind Sherlock and he ducked taking Lestrade with him as a reflex, he was groaning in pain.

Sherlock stared at the blood oozing from his wound, he was shot right in the right shoulder.

"Greg!" Sherlock crawled to his body making sure not to touch him "HELP!"

Lestrade held Sherlock by the collar "Sherlock I forgive you. Please, take care of your friends"

Anderson jumped into the room and acted as John did in these situations, he looked focused and composed while asking Sherlock to keep his distance.

In a matter of minutes, Lestrade was loaded on a stretcher and into an ambulance accompanied by Sherlock.

_He wasn't meant to live through this_. This realization gave Sherlock a new form of hope. He saved Lestrade's life at that moment.

**_People protect people_**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello, legendary people!**

**Hope you like this one. _Feel encouraged to review/follow/favorite! _**

**Again, I apologize for the many typos and grammatical mistakes that are in past, present or future chapters. I hate them too.  
**

* * *

Sherlock made sure Lestrade was admitted, he had enough police men around him, but their ranks are easily penetrated and they're most probably idiots. He updated Mycroft and went to the floor Molly's room was in, told a few of Mycroft's men to guard Lestrade as he was in more grave danger than her.

Lestrade is the next target, and if he survived against Moriarty's will, he is in bigger danger than anybody else at the moment.

John saw Sherlock standing in front of Molly's room, he was trying to take a glimpse inside.

"Oh, look who's here!" John's hostility was apparent in his voice.

"I know I was wrong, no need to rub it in my face" Sherlock held up his hand to stop him from talking.

"Let's just agree that you follow my lead when it comes to social interactions, being yourself clearly won't cut it" John was switching to humor, confusing Sherlock.

"Yes, let's do that." They smiled at each other for a few seconds before Sherlock's face turned serious again "Lestrade has been shot, he's downstairs if you want to check on him, though I doubt they will let you"

John's eyes widened "What?"

Sherlock explained to him what they saw at the apartment, how he saved Lestrade's life and that he thinks Moriarty will be so angry at this turn of events.

"The thing with Moriarty is that he depends on other people to do his bidding, and people make mistakes" Sherlock glanced at Molly's room.

"OK, so let's focus on one thing at a time, where will Molly stay?"

"I think I should talk to her first. She'll probably yell" Sherlock grinned "Thank God she can't get up easily or she will slap me again"

John grinned back remembering how Molly surprised everyone with slapping Sherlock three consecutive times "She's strong, Sherlock"

"I know" She has survived Moriarty's brutalizing and Sherlock's cruelness alone. He opened her door slowly fixing his gaze upon her small frame, she was still losing weight.

Molly stared at him, anger and happiness mixing inside of her. She wanted to hug him and slap him at the same time, but at the moment, she could do neither.

"About time you figured it out" Molly sat up in her bed letting out a moan of pain.

"Figure out what?" She smiled at the confused look in his eyes, sympathy shining along with it. He never wore his emotionless mask around her anymore.

"That staying away won't protect me, that shutting people is not the answer to everything." She felt her voice rise despite herself. He noted how different she was.

"I am sorry, I thought it was the right thing to do. Forgive me" He was sincere. A grin shone across her face at this statement "I appreciate the notion, nonetheless. I wasn't mad at you. Thank you for coming, eventually" She can never be mad at him, he was always like a lost puppy when it came to dealing with other humans. She imagined him as a socially impaired child all the time.

"I also want to apologize for not finding you sooner. He didn't want me to find you until _that_ night, I am sorry that you helping me was the main reason for your suffering." Sherlock felt as if tons of guilt were lifted from his chest, so many apologies were needed if he was going to get the rest of his chest, and he didn't like apologies.

"Sherlock, I know you didn't know where I was, I am not mad at you in any way. I just want you to promise me to never leave someone who needs you alone" Her voice cracked, she cried in front of him despite herself.

All those years of him insulting her and embarrassing her she managed to not cry in front of anyone. When she was alone all her life, no one saw her cry. When Moriarty broke her to pieces, she managed not to cry. She didn't feel vulnerable or exposed in Sherlock's presence when she cried for the first time in front of someone, though, he always managed to calm her down just by his mere existence. She cursed herself for letting him have such in effect on her, _why him?_

Sherlock was baffled at the sight in front of him, he stood silently for a few moments. Crying always confused and scared him. He took a step forward and started patting her on the back a few times, her sobbing turned into little giggles. Now he was completely confused.

"I am sorry, I don't like to cry" She wiped her tears away, looking up at him with red teary eyes.

"I promise, Molly." Sherlock was extremely bewildered, she was smiling, yet her eyes hid sadness. He saw himself in Molly Hooper as he remembered how when he was in the same position, she was the only person who saw through him.

Sherlock signaled John to step inside the room so they would discuss important matters.

"Molly, now that you're being discharged today, where will you stay?" Sherlock was back to his professional demeanor.

"My apartment, obviously" She shrugged.

"Not an option" Sherlock said bluntly, John nudged with his elbow.

"Why not?" Molly looked confused. Sherlock decided to let John continue speaking since he felt a few more nudges were going to be present.

"Um…There has been a break in, Molly."

Her eyes widened "Did he blow up my apartment?!" Sherlock smiled, John continued speaking "No, but he left _a dress_ there with a note, so it's just not safe for you to stay there alone."

"Along with the fact that Mycroft and Lestrade's men are complete idiots who are easily fooled" She opened her mouth, maybe to argue, but Sherlock stopped her "Lestrade's been shot in you apartment" She gaped at him and John closed his eyes in disappointment "She has to know everything, John. Any house you stay in can be infiltrated if you're alone or protected by strangers we don't personally know."

"You can stay with me and Mary" John offered "No, I can't possibly be a burden on a seven months pregnant woman !" Sherlock smiled again, she's only seen Mary once and knew how long she's been pregnant.

"Mrs. Hudson, then!" Sherlock clapped his hands together. "She has only one bedroom, but you can stay in John's old room. I am not helpful, but she is" Everyone nodded at his suggestion.

Molly was accompanied by Sherlock back to 221B Baker Street, while John went back to his house to stay with Mary.

* * *

Mary was sitting alone listening to classical music, she was rubbing her enlarged belly humming to her unborn child. Any mother would do anything for her child, but Mary wasn't any mother, she was a trained assassin who would literally kill for her baby.

She has been worried sick for days at a time now, John was spending most of the day at the hospital, then he would go back home exhausted so she would end up comforting him. She didn't complain, though, she appreciated how he stood by Molly's side. She saw her once at the wedding and once when she was slapping the hell out of Sherlock.

A smiled covered her face at the memory, it turned into a grin as she remembered how everyone was excited Molly did it. She did what every person in the world was hoping to do for years. Slap Sherlock Holmes, that's the dream.

Her phone rang, it was John telling her he was on his way, and he updated her about Lestrade, broken bones that's all, and Sherlock's new roommate. Her smile widened, she saw in Molly everything Sherlock lacked. She couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock did become "more human" will he not be as brilliant? He took forever to read through her because he wanted to like her for John's sake.

She dismissed the thought, there's no need to jump to conclusion. A few minutes later she opened the telly and stared at the breaking news

"A hospital in central London has been a target for bombing, no number of casualties was determined yet. Police reports are…" Mary quickly shut the telly and called John, he answered clearly out of breath.

"Are you okay?!" Mary was yelling through the phone.

"I am fine, yeah. Managed to leave ten minutes before anything happened. "Oh my God I can't believe he blew up an entire hospital!" John's voice was shaking "I am almost there, if you need anything call me"

"John wait…I love you, please take care" Mary was crying now. "I love you too." they hang up.

An entire hospital. Moriarty shook England at that moment. This was a true tragedy. Mary's heart was clenched in fear as she thought of the thousands who died. doctors, nurses and patients...All barbecue Sherlock saved his friend. They weren't dealing with any sort of criminal, Moriarty was a truly crazy man who shouldn't be alive.

Mary renewed her vow to herself that her child will not be born in a world where Jim Moriarty exists.

* * *

Sherlock was sad, Molly was right next to him in the cab her face as sad as his.

Greg and probably thousands of people are dead. The hope he felt earlier when he saved Greg from an inevitable fate was gone. Helplessness resided inside of him once more. This was a punishment for saving one life that wasn't meant to be saved. One life for thousands in return.

"I will go back to the hospital" Sherlock erased all emotions from his face. Molly nodded and they remained silence, he dropped her off at the apartment where greeted her.

He took one long look at Molly as she leaned on Mrs. Hudson for support.

Molly and Greg. Two down, two to go.

* * *

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	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, most awesome people on Earth and beyond!  
I am so thrilled to have so many followers, my heart sings each time someone follows and reviews so thank you all ! Certainly didn't expect to get so far when I first started. I really hope this story rose to your expectations! **

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* * *

Sherlock's stomach was tied in knots as he arrived at the remnants of St Bart's hospital, his first concern was Lestrade. He saw John standing behind the police line waiting for Sherlock to arrive.

"John, did they find him yet?" John was startled for a moment, not able to contain his anxiety, Sherlock deduced he hasn't slept for days now.

"No, they haven't. There's no use if we get close, we'll only disrupt the firemen" John was fiddling with his finger and tapping his feet.

Sherlock noticed a few firemen stationed where he imagines Greg's room was, if the calculations are correct. A hospital this size must have been blown with a great amount of explosives.

"How's he doing this?" Sherlock whispered to himself, John heard and shook his head "I dismantled his entire network, where is he getting snipers and explosives?" Frustration filled Sherlock, along with dread. He kept watching bodies getting pulled up, his heart sank everytime he didn't see the silver hair of Lestrade.

Lestrade was his friend, a man who supported him through everything, a man who believed in his abilities enough to give him confidential information for years. Sherlock's hatred for Moriarty was doubled, he was surprised how much a person can hate another.

Sherlock's phone rang, he said in relief when he saw the caller ID.

"Sherlock, a few of my men were with Lestrade, am I correct?" Mycroft was in his business mode.

"Yes, they were" he didn't bother to ask how Mycroft knew, of course he did.

"Okay. Everyone in the hospital is a priority of course, but Greg and my men are being especially sought out."

Sherlock's mind worked in hyper speed, in a matter of seconds, he formulated a plan. He walked away from John to talk to Mycroft in private.

John didn't even notice Sherlock was gone, the police were now urging everyone to leave as there could be more explosives and to give the firemen their space. He turned around, didn't find Sherlock, so he called a cab heading towards his house.

A few minutes later, Sherlock followed in another cab towards Baker Street.

Sherlock walked inside the apartment slowly, Molly was lying on the sofa where he usually lay, and her eyes were closed. He had a new habit to check people's breathing when their eyes were closed, hers was normal, she wasn't asleep.

"Did they find him?" She was almost whispering.

"No, they told everyone to leave. Mycroft is giving them a push to seek Lestrade out, though" He was now sitting in his leather chair, plucking at his violin. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Molly was usually chatty around Sherlock.

"Play something, will you?" Molly glanced at him before closing her eyes again.

He smiled and started playing a sad tone he had composed while she was kidnapped, he promised himself she would hear it when she came back. She did.

"It's nice" She muttered after he finished.

"Thank you." He put the violin on his chair, Sherlock wasn't settled in his place, he started pacing around. Nervous and uneasy. "Molly, you can have my room, the bathroom is closer. John's room is upstairs, no bathroom, and the bed probably reeks of chemicals right now."

"I thought I was staying with Mrs. Hudson" she couldn't sit up or move her neck to look at him, so she settled for talking to the ceiling. He noticed this, and was now sitting on the coffee table, looking at her face directly "She only has one bedroom, technically you're staying with her, but sleeping here." he smiled softly, she avoided looking at his face.

Molly promised herself one thing before getting discharged. It all started when she broke her engagement off, really. She promised herself that no matter what happens, Sherlock Holmes is just a friend. She convinced herself she deserved a more normal guy, a man who can compensate for her lost years in loneliness., a man who's as nice as she.

Being close to Sherlock made all that seem almost impossible. She decided to avoid contact with him as much as she can. He leads her on not knowing what he's doing, in his mind it's all normal chat, in hers it's not. She's been in love with him for so long, there's no difference now.

The only different thing now is that she managed to contain her feeling, no stuttering, and no breaking eye contact. Moriarty gave her the reason she needed to swear off sociopaths forever. She didn't get nervous around Sherlock like before, she didn't misinterpret his niceness towards her as affection. He is her friend now, only one.

Sherlock stood up, paced around for a few minutes, then turned his gaze towards her again "Molly, you never told me what happened in that warehouse during that time" He saw her eyes start to lose their spark again as she remembered

Molly nodded, it was really hard to talk about her sufferings, she never did like opening up. She intentionally avoided eye contact while she told him everything Moriarty said and did to her during those three weeks, she was actually surprised how much she remembered despite trying to block it all out.

Until she got to the part where she knew Sherlock would be interested in, she told him about the night she tried to escape, his face turned into a mixture of joy and worry at the same time when she told him she'd slapped Moriarty, and was shot as a result.

"You slapped him?" Sherlock was smiling, yet frowning.

"Yes, I did." Molly smiled.

"This is um…" He got up, checked his watch, then looked back at her "He's dangerous, Molly. It's actually kind of amazing you did that, but…" Molly got up, moaned in pain in the process "How can he possibly hurt me more?" Molly let a tear slip from between her eyelids, she didn't like looking weak, especially in front of Sherlock. He was never able to handle someone crying.

"Sherlock, he killed my cat, shot Greg in my apartment, blew up where I work" she was still trying to hold back her tears "He..." she gestured at herself and broke down crying "He took everything from me"

He stepped forward hesitantly and touched her shoulder, she slightly flinched, but didn't laugh it off. He held her close to him like the day he found her in the warehouse, she was still as vulnerable and scared as she was that day no matter how hard she pretended, almost as scared as he is. Sherlock started formulating a response to make her feel better, all of them had unpredictable responses, he chose silence. She leaned against him for a second, but pulled away swiftly.

"I am fine" she raised her head from his chest, put on an attempt at a smile, Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but walked slowly to his room, locking the door.

"No, you are not." He whispered to himself. He hated how useless he was in these situations. He was the only one who could make her feel slightly better and he was no good.

six hours passed already. Sherlock has been reading the news on his laptop, fifty people dug up from the rubbles, only seventeen are alive. These were most probably on the top floors. No sign of Lestrade, Mycroft would've called. A hospital this size would be containing thousands of people and it would take days to go through all the bricks and metal.

Moriarty's style has changed. He doesn't warn Sherlock or give him a chance to stop disasters from happening now. We're not playing anymore, his main goal is to make Sherlock feel like a wounded animal and then kill him. So far, he was succeeding.

Sherlock sat at his chair for what seemed like countless hours.

* * *

It was morning after the hospital was blown up. The number of live people saved seemed insignificant to the number of people found already dead or couldn't be saved. The air had grim traces in it, England was mourning this horrific event.

James Moriarty was enjoying the darkness that seemed to sprawl all over London, even the sky looked darker than usual. He was sipping tea on a rooftop in central London, sitting on the edge watching as people walked aimlessly to their jobs, to fulfill what they call their purpose in life and die in a few years.

All people live for is death. It's all about death. You either go with a bang and have everyone remember you, or you go silently in a bed surrounded by a few loved ones or alone, forgotten in a few years. If Moriarty will go anytime soon, every sheep has to remember him. Moriarty is a name fit for history books, an eternal name.

Jim smiled as the door opened behind him, a woman with long brown hair and matching caramel eyes stepped in, she stood behind him in silence admiring the view.

"Good morning" She had the sweetest voice, and the softest touch if he remembers last night correctly.

"Morning, darling" He looked up at her, she was wearing a long coat that touched her bare skin directly. She drew a smile with her small mouth.

"Let's get you out of this cold weather" he glanced at her, no matter how close she resembled the original, she didn't suffice. Nonetheless, she will do for now. They walked together outside the building and into a car parked outside just for them. She will do until the original one comes through.

Moriarty's phone beeped. Sherlock hugging a sobbing Molly, Jim almost felt guilty, but jealousy prevailed. He only misses a toy when someone else has it.

* * *

**To make up for all the darkness of past chapters, I am planning out a few romantic moments.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello, lovelies ! **

**First of all, thank you so much for the follows BIG FIVE-O !**

**Second, continue reviewing please! **

**Third, ENJOY!**

* * *

Sun rays crept into Sherlock's room, marking Molly's third day with no sleep. She spent all her days and nights thinking and replaying memories, there was just no room for sleeping anymore.

She started off remembering Greg and how he used to stop by the hospital to have an occasional cup of coffee with her. He helped her during her hardships with Tom, Janine and The Woman. She stood by him during the divorce, and when his wife was compulsively cheating on him. He's become her friend through the years, and he never let her down.

She cried her eyes out as she remembered their conversations. She eventually managed to calm herself down, nothing to do now but hope he's fine.

_**Hope**_.

Suddenly she replayed everything Moriarty said and did to her. He told her hope is what makes people so fragile and he was right, the more hopeful someone is, the harder he takes a fall. Molly didn't need to remember Moriarty, not when she's trying to block out everything that had to with him.

She distracted herself by examining the room around her. Five years ago if Molly was sleeping in Sherlock's bed she would've fainted. She's grown since, their relationship grew as well. She smiled as his scent filled her lungs. Molly decided to get up before she started fantasizing about Sherlock, she was an emotional roller coaster at all times.

She opened the door and went to the living room, Sherlock was lying on the couch, she couldn't tell if he was asleep or not, and he didn't move. She turned back toward the room as to not disturb him.

"Chocolate" His voice was ragged, she was slightly startled.

"What?" She stopped in her tracks and looked at him, he got up in one swift move and cleared his throat pointing at the coffee table in front of him "I got you chocolate, Serotonin helps"

It took her a while to process what he meant, Serotonin the chemical causing happiness, she stepped forward and picked up the small box "Thanks" She smiled and he smiled back, he was in full sympathetic mode today "How are you?"

She shook her head "I am fine"

He frowned "You keep saying that, I don't think you are" How she looked contradicted her statement, obviously. Molly forced a smile and walked away from him towards John's old chair.

"Any news about Greg?" She almost whispered, he seemed to take a moment to comprehend she meant Lestrade "Oh, no nothing yet. They are pulling out people, though, any one you'd like to check on?" He was examining her, not caring how uncomfortable she felt under his penetrating gaze.

She shook her head and started eating the chocolate he'd given her, she did feel slightly better, just not enough. Sherlock was silent, he wanted to speak, but he was just worried he might say the wrong thing. She hated being treated like a fragile being.

"Sherlock, stop it" she was sharp, his staring had gotten pretty creepy after a full five minutes. "Stop what?" She looked at him, he didn't have any idea what he was doing wrong.

"Stop trying to deduce me. I am in post-traumatic stress, and I don't appreciate you staring at me." She meant it as a joke, but he was taking everything about her too seriously, a frown formed on his face.

"I also brought you clothes, from your apartment. Though I doubt anything will fit you anymore, you're too thin" He sat on the chair opposite to her, laptop in hand. She smiled, now he's back to normal "Thanks"

They sat in silence, neither looking at each other. They both knew their time together will awkward, but this was just painful.

"Does he call you?" Molly suddenly asked Sherlock whose eyes never left the laptop.

"No, that's what is unsettling. We're not playing anymore"

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock seemed to pick his words for a few moments, Molly didn't need further anxiety, but it's only fair she knew what was happening.

"This is me losing, Molly" they both stared at each other, Sherlock was masking his emotions "He thinks he already won, so he's killing everyone I know before eventually killing me, something to do with burning the heart out of me" He waved his hand nonchalantly

"But you always stop him, you have to" Molly couldn't comprehend what he meant "Sherlock I believe in you, everyone does" He smiled at her softly.

"Look where that got you" He wasn't sarcastic, he wasn't being mean, he was sad. He looked at her immediately regretting what he said when he saw her reaction. Molly shook her head and stood up to make some tea for herself.

He also got up, looking at her with determination "I will protect my friends until my last breath, Molly."

He was now standing directly in front of her, his height shadowing her " And He will pay for everything he did to you" Some of her fear vanished, replaced by fear for him. She saw anger in his eyes, she's never seen Sherlock angry before.

Molly felt his soft hands on the back of her head, his tender lips on hers. She was amazed at how good he was at kissing, her brain didn't comprehend what's happening, butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she eventually gave in to the kiss. It was brief, but it left her head over heels and light headed.

Sherlock pulled away, his forehead fixed on hers "I will never let him hurt you again" She looked up at his blue green eyes, his mask dropped. His eyes reflected affection, and maybe hints of sympathy. Molly couldn't speak, and decided not to so the moment won't end. She could feel her legs become jelly, but his hand fixed upon her waist steadied her.

For what seemed like hours they stood like that, just looking at each other. He pulled away and gave her a smile as he sat on his chair again when he heard footsteps outside. She didn't move, seemingly unable to remember how to walk.

Mrs Hudson stepped in the room, she seemed puzzled for a moment when she saw Molly standing staring into nothing and Sherlock on his chair looking at her. They seemed frozen in their stances. "Are you okay, darlings?"

The statues came to life as Molly suddenly rotated her upper body disturbing some injuries she moaned in pain for a second "Umm…Yes, we're fine. I was just going to make some tea" She tried to smile at Mrs. Hudson, but Molly couldn't completely wipe her shock away. "Oh no need for that, I made you some" Mrs. Hudson signaled at the tray in her hands.

Molly nodded and sat back in the chair "Any news, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson set the tray and handed Molly a warm cup of tea. "No, no news yet" Sherlock was wearing his mask again, Molly really wondered why no one was ever able to see through it except her, he was his normal self again as if nothing happened. Her mind, on the other hand, was in hyper drive. She felt a small hint of anger at Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson seemed to linger after tea for Molly's sake, she must've felt the awkwardness fill the room, and she chatted, mostly with herself, about her husband and his cartel. Neither Molly nor Sherlock talked back, they just nodded along every time she paused. Sherlock finally managed to get her to leave after what seemed like an eternity.

"I thought that would never end. You understand why I have her on a semi-permanent mute at all times." Sherlock closed the door after Mrs. Hudson left

"Why did you do that?" Molly got up and looked at Sherlock fiercely, he seemed confused "She was going on and on…"

"No, I don't mean Mrs. Hudson. Why did you kiss me?" Comprehension and slight anxiety flashed across Sherlock's face "I kissed you before, Molly"

"No, not like _that_" She wanted to slap him in the face. How dare he do that to her like she can withstand further pain.

"Because I wanted to." He seemed to look at his feet as he whispered to himself. Molly froze in her place "What?"

"I do that when I am sad or when _you're_ sad, Molly. Didn't you notice the pattern?" He was now in his usual mask. She remembered Moriarty's fluid transition between emotions, somehow they were very much alike.

"Oh, so you did this to make _me_ feel better?" anger was apparent in her voice.

"No, I did it because I am miserable." He took a step towards her suddenly, and she shrunk back subconsciously "I am sad because I wasn't there for you. I let you down. Somehow you've become an important part of my life and **_you_** are paying for it."

"Sherlock, I never blamed you for anything. This still doesn't justify…" Molly was calm now, her urge to slap him remained nonetheless, he made it sound like he was using her.

"Molly, you don't get it." He cut her off "You make me _feel better_. You have this ability that I never…" He never understood why Molly could make him feel that way in a matter of seconds, he wanted to know why he needed her, not knowing irritated him. He's been rude to her sometimes because of this, she _confused_ him. She read through his dilemma, and smiled to herself.

The next thing Molly knew was that she lunged forward and kissed him with intensity she never experienced before, for a moment she forgot about the stabbing pain in her sides, he seemed confused at first but eventually gave in meeting her intensity with his own. Their lips moved in a harmony she never experienced, he never experienced it either, being that Janine was the only other person he kissed. He certainly never felt that way with her.

They were out of breath by the time they pulled away, neither of them wanting to part each others lips. Sherlock was panting as he held her close never letting her take a step backwards, she didn't even try. Molly started cursing herself, this was still not right even though it felt so good. She couldn't think straight but something told her to not put her hopes up, Sherlock is not a normal human being with feelings like the rest, she wanted different things.

"When were you sad before?" Molly whispered to him.

"When you told me you were engaged, I thought I lost you like I lost John"

Molly smiled softly and freed herself from his grasp. She sat in John's old chair and stared at the empty fireplace, he announced that John and Mary will stop by soon, she nodded silently never looking at his general direction.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello extremely patient people! **

**Sorry about the late entery. :D **

**Hope you enjoy this one! **

* * *

"How do you think she's holding up?" Mary said to John who was sitting next to her in the taxi taking them to 221B Baker Street

"I think a few slaps were present" He smiled at his wife "And he must be pretending to have an eternal migraine" They laughed together

"If he does grow up a bit they might be a great couple" Mary said matter-of-factually to John who snorted "I find that hard to imagine, but if anyone will push him towards maturing, Molly is the best one to do it" He smiled softly at Mary.

The doorbell announced the arrival of John and Mary at 221B Baker Street. The awkward silence between Sherlock and Molly was interrupted when Mrs. Hudson accompanied the Watsons upstairs. They greeted each other, Molly excused herself to prepare tea for the company, somewhat feeling like a burden on the old lady.

"How's the new situation suiting you?" John whispered to Sherlock as soon as Molly was out of earshot, Sherlock merely whispered "Fine" back. John exchanged a look with Mary who changed the subject "Any news about Lestrade?"

"Absolutely nothing" Sherlock shrugged "Not is there a hint about Moriarty's whereabouts, I hate his silence" everyone nodded in gloom

"Let's just hope he isn't planning something like the hospital thing again." Mr.s Hudson whispered, John reached for his wife's hand. Molly interrupted the depressing conversation by walking in with the tray of tea. The unusual silence was only interrupted by the occasional sip and cups put into their saucers. Mary offered to take the tray while giving Sherlock a meaningful look.

He got up a few moments after she went to the kitchen and they slowly strayed from the group of silent people in the living room. "Molly looks and sound awfully like that woman I saw in that house" Mary whispered to him after she lead him into his bedroom.

"I know. He got someone who looked exactly like her, I saw her too" Sherlock knew this was coming, Mary had no idea who Molly was except from the stories John told her. "What if it was her, then?" Mary questioned, she was over protective now, it's natural.

"Because I know Molly, she would never work with him. Besides look at the state she's in, she's bruised and can barely walk straight." Sherlock tried to sound gentle, but somehow Mary's accusations annoyed him.

"Sherlock, I am just saying sometimes you get blinded." She noticed the look on his face when she said this, he didn't read Mary completely when she first met him even though her tongue slipped every once in a while "Just, be careful"

The cards. Dread accompanied him while he was making them and after he his them in the fireplace. His face was expressionless "I appreciate your concern, Mary" He snuck into the bathroom while she snuck back into the kitchen. Despite the uneventful idle chat, no one seemed to notice they had disappeared.

Sherlock's phone chirped a text message was received, he dashed towards the living room "John, get your coat! They found Lestrade" he ignored the gasps and questions that accompanied his statement he didn't know anything beyond the message from Mycroft. In a second Sherlock put on his coat and scarf and he was hailing a taxi towards the Royal London Hospital, one of the busiest now with St. Bart's gone.

As soon as they arrived at the hospital Sherlock paid the cabbie, to John's surprise, and jumped out. They were greeted by a police officer who looked stern and very professional. Sherlock read long past with marines "Mr Holmes and Dr. Watson" he nodded at them "Please, follow me" John glanced at Sherlock before following the wide paced men up the stairs of a very busy hospital.

The men walked in silence, mainly to avoid having their words picked up by the wrong people. Sherlock knew Moriarty is watching, and if Lestrade is alive, the first will be extremely angry. Sherlock kept replaying different scenarios in his head with the help of the blue prints of St. Bart's stored in mind palace. All of them seemed dangerous, Lestrade will be very lucky to be alive. John knew this as well, as a man of war he saw people burried under rubbles or blown up, he also knew Greg's chances are slim if non existent. Yet they both had hope neither of them wished to acknowledge.

They were now on an isolated part of the very large hospital, a very private wing. "New security installed, only you two and Mr. Holmes are allowed to go in." Sherlock frowned "No other people on the inside?" the officer seemed annoyed when being addressed "Naturally, nurses go in, but it's only two, backgrounds are cleared" Sherlock frowned even more, that's the thing with hospitals. Faulty security, people having excuses to access you at all times. He realized that meant Lestrade survived. He stood in front of the door frozen, a scanner. He put his hand on it and the door was open in a few seconds, as soon as he passed the door closed, almost taking John's foot between it's vertical teeth. John scanned his fingers and was standing safely next to Sherlock in a few seconds.

"Uptight security isn't it?" John was looking around in awe. The room was completely wide, a double door led to another room with a bed out of sight. "Let's hope it works" Sherlock's stomach was tied in knots. they walked slowly towards the other door expecting anything to jump at them, nothing happened "What's the point of this room?" John whispered. Cameras were pointed at them, cameras that Sherlock knew would mirror into a screen in one of Mycroft's men room.

They opened the door slowly taking in the site in front of them. The DI had a cast over his left leg, a bandaged head and forearm, he was wearing a hospital gown so there was no of telling further. Sherlock was puzzled for a moment, John reached for the medical report at the bottom of the bed "Malnutrition, Broken left leg, four ribs, a fractured skull -minor, concussion, and a fractured ulna" John was relieved "I expected more, honestly" Sherlock nodded, he'd expected none of Lestrade to be able to come back. "He's under drugs so we won't be able to talk to him, though. I'm guessing he needs a lot of pain killers."

"So we need to leave. Limit visiting hours." Sherlock disappeared from the room quickly, shortly followed by John who didn't argue, he knew Sherlock was right. Sherlock stood of the firm officer as soon as they saw him outside "I trust you'll keep the room safe, keep an eye for the staff" The officer was just as emotionless and stern as Sherlock, he merely nodded.

* * *

Moriarty was mad, annoyed, if he blew up that hospital room then he will be boring. Nothing new up his sleeve, Lestrade has to pay for defying his scheduled death twice. First time it ever happened. The bombs were placed in exact places, detonated at the right sequence. Why did that man survive?

He was negotiating something with some boring client. The man wasn't interesting, his case wasn't interesting, he was stupid enough to get himself into a mess.

No family, no friends, alone and bitter wanting to stage someone's death for helping his wife run away. Moriarty doesn't do domestic bliss.

He raised his hand for the man to stop talking, he stopped after a few stutters. _Slow and stupid. _Jim took a couple of steps backwards then clicked his fingers. The boring man's blood dripped down his messy shirt. A shirt that has been lying on the floor for three weeks before he decided to wear it to the meeting_. disrespectful. _and now it's_ his last shirt ever._

He knew there was a certain brunette with caramel eyes waiting for him at the hotel, willing to do anything to improve his mood. There was no match to the thrill of killing someone with a click of your fingers, though.

He walked towards the door of the stuffy room the dull meeting was taking place in "He's lonely and pathetic. All yours" he smiled as his hit-men debated silently what to do with the body "Don't be dull" He walked out, got in the back of a BMW parked outside just for him. The driver opened the door in haste.

* * *

As a great liar herself, Mary was able to detect other liars fairly quickly. Even Sherlock, sometimes. She was reading Molly, or at least trying too. The face she'd put up, the shy girl from St. Bart's who's had a hopeless crush on Sherlock for years seemed to fade a little now, she became a little less shy, little bit stronger. She wasn't a liar, though. Mary knew she sounded exactly like the woman in the house, even her general features were the same, yet the girl in front of her now had no means of becoming a killer, nor a desire.

Molly and Mrs. Hudson exchanged stories about Lestrade at the beginning, Mary had no stories, she only saw the man twice. Never spoke to him for more than five minutes. He was divorced recently, though, that's all she knew. The subject soon shifted towards discussing pregnancy and the name of the unborn baby girl, Mary hasn't decided on a name yet.

As all conversations go, they talked about Sherlock. Apparently no one can have a sitting and not talk about him. Molly flushed at the subject, and offered so little. Mary felt a little sorry for her at that moment. Of all the people, why Sherlock? A question Molly asked herself a couple times before.

They went silent when they heard footsteps down stairs, Sherlock and John were back.

"He's alive" John stood in front of the eager crowd, they were showered with relief "Placed in a high security room, no one can get in without Scotland Yard's knowledge"

Mrs. Hudson patted Molly's back, they were both smiling. Molly's eyes showed dread, though, one that settled on Mary's face as well. If Lestrade is alive when he shouldn't be, there's going to be a whole lot of trouble to follow.

"Will he not blow this hospital up too?" Molly asked Sherlock, who was standing idly by the window "I don't think that's his style, he likes clever tricks. The game is boring when you use the same strategies over and over"

221B seemed to go still for a moment, the air felt colder and sullenness rested in every corner. Everyone feared The Unforeseeable.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello, lovely awesome people who I hope don't notice the long time gaps between chapters.**

**Sorry about that, college is exhausting. **

**Hope you enjoy this! **

* * *

Explosions stopped. London's quiet and peaceful again.

Sherlock, on the other hand, is bored.

His inbox was disappointingly filled with boring cases, all of them were about cheating couples or lost items. Sherlock thought that with Moriarty back he would be back on his feet working again, not have his mind rot with boredom.

He was exploring old cases, walking through the same corridor with John in his mind palace, analyzing data all over again. Every crucial case he went on was recorded in the form of memories which he can play at any time.

This is still not doing it.

Frustration rolled on, he can't be himself in his waking moments so his mind palace is all he has. John warned him to not be his annoying self around Molly, he emphasized something about her being a guest and being there unwillingly. She did beg them to go back to her apartment because she is fine now. John refused to let her leave, Sherlock didn't reply.

"Hello, Sherlock. are you okay?" Her soft feminine voice. He was in his mind palace, his safe haven. Why is she here too? "Leave me alone, Molly." Sherlock didn't look at the mind palace version of the pathologist but he knew she didn't leave.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Leave. You are distracting me"

"It's not like you have anything going on. Besides, don't you want to talk to me? We did kiss" For a split second he wondered what would happen if he assaulted a vision of his own imagination. "

You are not allowed to be my distraction" He looked at the beautiful vision his mind created, mind palace Molly was wearing colorful sweater, her hair in a sideways braid. "I am saving people now, Molly. Stop being so…distractive" With that she smiled and walked away.

He heard her voice again, but this was not his mind playing games, it was real Molly calling him.

"What?" He replied violently.

"I am sorry to interrupt your…um…"She stood back from him "Donovan is here" She gestured to the detective at the door who merely nodded at him. Great.

"What is it?" he ignored Molly's presence and shifted his piercing gaze towards Donovan. "We found a dead body" She held up an evidence bag "He committed suicide by shooting both his lungs".

"So?" Sherlock avoided looking at Molly as she sat in front of him, in John's old chair.

"He has a cell we believe belongs to Molly" Donovan announced.

Molly turned around violently to look at Donovan "What?" He finally looked at Molly. Her eyes with puffy, yet she slept and ate perfectly well and fully healed. She cries herself to sleep every night. yet smiles to everyone in the morning. Neither of them were smiling as Sherlock asked her to accompany him.

Recently divorced. No ring, tan line visible. The body has been there for at least two days, smell and decomposition patterns suggested, as well as the wet clothes he had on even though it hadn't rained since Wednesday. Lonely man.

Two gunshot wounds to the chest, self-inflicted. He wanted a slow death, unconventional. His hands were stiff around the gun and the rain probably washed away any evidence.

Molly stared at the man's face, then his wound and back again "Who would commit suicide by shooting his lungs?"

"Did you call his ex-wife?" Sherlock asked Donovan.

"We still don't have a positive ID, I was hoping Molly would recognize him" Donovan admitted.

Molly shook her head "I never saw him before" Sherlock nodded "Check the serial number on the gun, I want to know who it belongs to" Donovan bagged the gun.

He stepped closer to the body. Something didn't add up. No blood or traces remained. Rain can't wash away all evidence like this. He opened the man's shirt and found a third gunshot, to the heart. "Molly, come here" Sherlock signaled for her to come "These gunshots are older than this one" He pointed at all three." He was shot in the heart first, they shot his lungs while still fresh, though" Molly glanced at the tossed shirt.

"Donovan, this man didn't commit suicide" Sherlock glanced at the detective, the only one who agreed to work with him after Lestrade properly.

"He had it, Sherlock" Molly whispered, her eyes still wide with fear "Moriarty"

He already knew that. Sherlock stood up and explained to Donovan everything, he also explained that the point of the corpse wasn't to investigate this man's murder but to do a lost and found.

He turned back to Molly to take her back to Baker Street. She refused to take the newly returned device from him. It reminded her of everything she cries about every night. It reminded her of Moriarty.

Sherlock tensed as he saw her scared eyes.

Should he offer some sort of compassion?

Put his arms around her? People do that.

He sufficed with patting her should lightly "Everything will be okay"

"He just killed a man to return my cell, Sherlock" She looked at him with her sad eyes in the cab.

He fought off the urge.

The phone in his pocket vibrated and asked to be charged as soon as possible. "Let it die, Sherlock. If he gave it to me so he can send messages, then by all means throw it in the Thames." He nodded, he is going to ignore her request.

This is his new communication route with Moriarty. He won't throw it away.

The game with Moriarty has to end. It has to end in Sherlock's favor.

When they arrived at 221B, Molly picked a book from Sherlock's wide variety and started reading it. He noted her way of escaping her looked miserable, her face aged in fifteen minutes. He wanted to do something, he did promise to protect her, yet he felt so lost when it came to being a shoulder to cry on mainly because she refuses to cry in front of him. Also because he has no idea what to do if she does.

"Molly, you must be bored by now, without your work, I mean" Sherlock interrupted her reading, she looked up at him, emotionless, hollow "Would you like to help with an experiment? Like we did in the lab?" This is it, that's all he can offer.

She smiled at him, her eyes lit up slightly as she stood up "What's the plan?" He led her to the kitchen table, he wanted to do an experiment on the effect of acid on finger prints, the relation of strength of acid and duration which fingers are left in it to the ability to retrieve positive IDs by finger prints. He had some fingers reserved she'd provided him with. "

The tools here aren't as good as the lab, but with your assistance it might be easier" Sherlock offered her gloves and they started working like they did at St. Bart's, whether it was one of his cases or a simple experiment he did, they're always like clockwork. He noticed Molly had a certain look when she was in the lab or working, something he only noticed because it contrasted the sad exterior she has now.

They worked for hours, but they seemed like minutes to them, he tried joking every once in a while they let fingers soak in acid, she smiled. Molly Hooper was beginning to blossom again. His helplessness washed away.

"We're done" Sherlock announced as he noted the last numbers in his mind palace, Molly smiled at him, she looked happy, happier than she's been in months.

"Thank you, Sherlock, for this" She smiled at him genuinely and he returned the smile in equal force. "Thank you for the help, Molly"

They stared at each other for a few minutes, his mind was debating, working in overdrive. Finally she walked past him back to her chair, her face slightly flushed as she continued reading a book about Roman history.

He finally remembered her newly retrieved cell that he now has to charge and hide. It was dead, he forgot about it, no_ it slipped his mind momentarily._

His anger rose again, Molly distracted him. He is letting her distract him. If he's going to win he has to overcome this.

He retreated to John's old room silently to charge the cell making sure it's silent so she can't hear it. He paced around as the phone slowly came to life.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello, lovelies.**

**First before you start, I know I take too long before updating but I'm bracing myself because exams are coming. So I might take a long while to update again. Sorry :(**

**Now that confessions are over, ENJOY :D**

**Please review.**

* * *

Sherlock walked out of his room to find Molly in her chair drinking tea. He checked his watch, it was too early in the morning for her to be awake. She rarely slept, though, he noticed. She cries every night when she's supposed to be sleeping and then comes out of her room and smiles like nothing is wrong.

"A normal person can only go for a few days without sleep, Molly. Don't take after me" He decided to confront her, continuing like this is not healthy.

"I woke up early, then I started baking, and well…Here we are" She smiled at him brightly, almost hiding the redness in her eyes, while pointing at a cookie plate in front of her.

"You need to sleep and eat like a normal person" Sherlock sat on front of her in his chair, frowning slightly. She lost a few more pounds. He pushed the plate of cookies towards her.

"I sleep just fine" Molly shrugged, desperate to change the subject "Are we experimenting today?"

"No" Sherlock shrugged, he's been meaning to spend the day exploring her phone, no time for experiments.

"Okay" Molly gave him another sickly bright smile and went to boil the kettle again. "Want some tea?"

Sherlock nodded at her briefly before his phone vibrated in his pocket, he opened the message, read it a few times over "Cancel the tea, Molly, I am going to see Lestrade"

"Is something wrong?" She hurried after him as he put on his coat

"I don't know yet"

"Can I come? I miss him"

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, angry all of a sudden instead of worried "No" He slammed the door of 221 Baker Street violently behind him.

He texted John to come meet him at the hospital, ten minutes later they were both standing in front of Sergeant Donovan.

"Nobody knows what happened" Donovan sighed of relief when she saw them, and signaled the nurse by her side to leave.

"Is he okay?" John asked her. Going faster towards the door of Lestrade's room, Sherlock's steps also grew wider apart.

Donovan stepped in front of them both forcing them to stop "He is…" She sighed heavily "He is dead"

John stared at her uncomprehending the words.

"How?" Sherlock asked her firmly.

"He had a heart attack" Donovan rubbed her temples "He didn't have a heart condition, none of the doctors are able to explain" She trailed off "His medication are fine and in their correct doses, too"

Moments of silence followed as John and Donovan waited for Sherlock to speak.

"Aren't heart attacks random?" Donovan tried to give Sherlock a push.

"Not if you don't have a preexisting condition or if you are very old and obese." John answered her "Does his family have a history of cardiovascular diseases?"

"No, but he smoked and occasionally drank, that's as destructive as he got" Donovan answered, she glanced at Sherlock he was staring at Lestrade's room door, not moving and definitely not speaking. She frowned at him "Since when are you silent?"

"I need to go in there" Sherlock finally looked at her

"Sure, but the body is still in there so…" Donovan looked at them both sadly before moving out of the way. John nodded understandingly.

Sherlock and John walked in to the white room, they were greeted by a very cold and somewhat grim room. Nothing explained the feeling, but for a moment John felt like he was walking into a room that held no happiness and he tugged his jacket closer to him as he glanced at Sherlock. He didn't seem to have the same feeling as John. He seemed blank.

They both stared at Lestrade's still body on the hospital bed. John didn't know if it was the grimness of the situation or just imagining it, Lestrade didn't look peaceful like the dead do, he looked scared.

Sherlock turned away from the body swiftly and paced around the room, exploring each inch of it, even the ceiling, he only faced Lestrade when the room had run out of surfaces to examine.

Donovan joined them before Sherlock touched the body "The coroner didn't get a look, so try not to ruin any evidence" She tried to sound as harsh as she usually is, but failed miserably. The sadness was apparent on her face, she held back tears as she looked in the body's general direction.

"I want him moved as soon as possible" She turned to an officer "This room is…too unhappy"

John turned to her "Yeah, exactly" They seemed to have stepped into the inside of an ice cube, this coldness was different it slipped into one's soul.

Sherlock ignored the two, he ignored everything. He ignored the fact that the man in front of him is Greg Lestrade. "Who's doing the autopsy?"

"Dr. Julie Callahan, she's been here for ten…" Donovan answered.

"No" Sherlock shook his head

"She can't do it, Sherlock" John read Sherlock's mind "He was her friend, she is no shape to perform an autopsy on him"

"I don't see why not" Sherlock felt the coldness of the room slip into him

"She's suffered enough" John insisted.

"Fine, but I want the report after Dr. Whatever is done" Sherlock put his mini magnifying glass in his pocket "Did you question everyone? The doctors, the nurses even the cleaners, and that officer who stands outside" He asked Donovan before he walked out, John soon following.

"Yes, none of them noticed anything bizarre, no one went into his room last night, and he always sleeps the whole night with no interruptions" Sherlock nodded "That officer though has been found dead this morning. Anderson is with him"

"Let's go" Sherlock signaled the Sargent and John.

Donovan called a couple of officers to escort them.

"How are you going to tell her?" John asked in an effort to get Sherlock to slow down, he didn't "Molly"

He nearly bumped into Sherlock as he stopped suddenly.

"I'll _just_ tell her, she deals with death, John, it's her job" Sherlock gritted his teeth "Stop babying her"

The two rode in the back of Donovan's car. John glanced at Sherlock, he didn't say any deductions out loud, and he was being quiet. Too quiet.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing in front of a suburban house just outside of London. The small house was small, fit for a single man with not intentions for a long-term relationships.

Anderson greeted them outside talking to his assistant, Sherlock tried to think of something to say to the man, but discovered he was in no mood to play games. He didn't wait for Anderson to speak, he stepped through the front door after examining the exterior of the house briefly.

A glass of spilled wine in hand and gaping blank eyes staring up as the stern looking army man laid on the floor. Next to a wine stain that, if he was alive, he wouldn't be too happy about.

Sherlock kneeled and smelled the wine stain on the floor, then he smelled the empty wine glass. "No" Sherlock opened the man's mouth. "Ahaa…" Sherlock stood up, he picked up a muffin from the coffee table and examined it closely, then he walked over to the kitchen.

"Any ideas?" John called after him and received no response until Sherlock reemerged though the kitchen door.

"This man doesn't cook, let alone bake a batch of muffins, his kitchen is pristine and there are pots that have never been used" Sherlock stood in front of the audience who waited for his explanation. He wondered why everyone around him always missed the obvious.

"In the trash however…" He threw a box and a wrapper on the floor "Are indications these muffins were given to him by a certain secret admirer in the hospital, as indicated by the lovely card the killer left. The man probably misses home cooked meals so he did not hesitate to take the gift home, even if he doesn't know the sender"

"He was poisoned?" John asked "By muffins?"

"Yes, well the berries in the muffins" Sherlock pointed out "I bet it's Bella Donna, they are very tasty. Try one, Anderson, and don't worry ten berries is the fatal dose" He smiled slightly.

Sherlock walked out of the house followed by John, he said goodnight before John could speak and jumped into a taxi as soon as possible "221 Baker Street, please"

* * *

"How is he?" Molly jumped up from John's old chair as soon as he heard Sherlock's foot steps "Sherlock, Is he okay?"

"Molly..." Sherlock looked into her brown sorrowful eyes, she's been hurt a lot in such a short time and for once Sherlock Holmes was at loss for words.

"What happened?" She grew more worried, her eyes widened as she stepped closer to him.

"Greg is gone" Sherlock said the sentence as fast and quiet as he could and wished Molly didn't hear him. She did.

He knew she heard because he finally saw Molly Hooper drop her own mask, she aged a thousand years instantly and the spark in her eyes left them hollow. She sat on the floor right in front of him and cupped her face in her hands. Silent at first, but then she finally cried in front of Sherlock.

He didn't know how to react, all he knew is that he shouldn't leave no matter how much he wanted to, he hesitated for a few seconds and sat by her as her body was shook by her silent sobs. She wouldn't reveal her face or move so he sufficed with patting her on the shoulder a few times.

"I am sorry, Molly" He found himself saying in a whisper, her sobs parted intervals. "Would you like to experiment now?"

He heard her let out a small laugh and smiled to himself, she lifted her face "I just want to sit here for a while" She kept her eyes focused on her wet hands "How did he..."

"I am waiting for the autopsy to tell me that, he was in the most secure hospital room ever" Sherlock felt relieved that the sobbing stopped "I'll tell Mycroft to show me the security tapes and we'll see. I'll do my best to end this"

Molly nodded and didn't speak for a while, she still didn't shift her focus from her hands. He stared at the stairs in front of him. There was no other place he wanted to be, he just simply wanted to be here, with her and not speak if necessary.

"Thank you, Sherlock, and sorry about crying...I don't usually..." She looked up at him, seeing his expression made her warm for a second, his eyes fixated on hers, she needed warmth to fill her instead of the coldness and heaviness.

Sherlock placed his hand behind her head and pulled her face towards his, he smiled slightly "You can cry in front of me, Molly. It's natural, right?" she managed to smile before he gave her a deep kiss, the warmth slipped into her heart slowly, she felt a bit better. She started kissing him back and the warmth filled her entire being.

He pulled away as their breaths ran out "I want you to be happy and safe" He whispered.

"Speaking of that" Sherlock put his hand into hers and stood up "Did I tell you about this fish and chips place I know?" He smiled at her, she noticed, the way he did when she told him she was getting engaged. She stood up and put her coat and scarf on, arguing about how not hungry she was seemed pointless so she followed his lead as he strolled into the dark streets of London to hail a taxi.


End file.
